The Angels of Hogwarts (Re-Write)
by BeforePeaceThereIsAStorm
Summary: *Re-Write* Chuck, former prophet revealed as God has made many mistakes in his lifetime, one of those many errors was locking away his beloved sister, Amara. He's made a mess, and it's his job to fix it, so, naturally, he begins with the most broken; his Angels and the Winchesters.
1. New Beginnings

**A**wareness had become a strange thing to Sam - a sort of dream after having spent so long surrounded completely with nothing, with darkness and emptiness, he wondered grimly if it was a nice change, a welcome one.

The first thing he felt was warm, a gentle caress that brushed lightly against his consciousness, so completely and utterly foreign compared to the icy grip he had felt for the duration of his time asleep. He frowned. Was this even wakefulness? There was no indication of such - he was still blind as always, and the only thing that had changed was his awareness- a coma, perhaps? It made sense, more than he'd like to admit, and Sam felt faintly concerned at the lack of emotions that thought brought. As fast as his thoughts had began, and he felt the flare of emotion, it faded, replaced with complete serenity, it was as if he was nearly unable to feel any emotion other than calm- to prevent panic? But that would indicate that someone was- in one way or another- controlling his current state of being.

Nope, nothing other than calm, even at such a pretense. What a lovely measure- or perhaps not, his current thoughts couldn't be completely trusted, after all.

Amusement, he could feel amusement, what was more disconcerting was that it was not his own. "Hello?" He tried, surprised when he actually heard the words leave his mouth, reverberating around the empty space in an oddly familiar fashion. He was in a limited space, then- a room? Had someone just turned out the lights? He attempted to move and found he could not. He wasn't held in place or anything, it was as if he was never even capable of movement in the first place.

...Perhaps he wasn't…

There was a chance- small as it was- that he was in his own mind. But then who was in here with him?

Suddenly, as if brought forth by his revelation, there was light. At first he was blinded and- unable to shield his eyes- he could do nothing but wait to adjust to the sudden change in his environment.

To say he was startled would be an understatement. He was standing amidst a forest of towering trees, oaks, pines, maples. Leaves twisted and fluttered in the breeze, but never dared break from the sturdy, powerful branches that bore them, as if unable to tear themselves from their home - or lifeforce, he supposed. His emotions remained unsurprisingly blank at that thought, despite its grim nature.

Golden sunlight- looking almost unreal in it's nearly ethereal nature- drifted lazily between wisps of branches and leaves, scattering the bright colour over the soft looking green grass, which he found he could feel beneath him, as if he'd foregone shoes. Before him stood a towering oak, clearly ancient as it reached for the heavens, spanning high above the other surrounding trees with it's gnarled branches and plethora of soft-looking leaves. He couldn't help but find it beautiful in it's- once more with such a word- nearly ethereal nature. In fact, everything looked like such, too gorgeous to be real, and yet too corporeal not to be. He could even hear the branches shifting neatly in the faint breeze, and could smell the soft scent of nature tickling at his senses.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sam whirled around, noticing for the first time that he too had a corporeal form, he was real, human again, no longer just a strain of thoughts. He knew there should have been more panic at the thought that someone had invaded what felt- oddly- like such a private, sacred place, but there was none. It turned out, no such fear was warranted, for before him stood none other than God and The Darkness, Chuck and Amara. Siblings reunited, together again.

"...Yes." Sam agreed, glancing around curiously - was this of Chuck's making?

"Oh no, this is all yours, Sam. It's your mind - or, the way you choose to perceive it, I suppose is more accurate." Sam did little more than hum in response, still eyeing the trees around him with curiosity. So this was his mind? Where did he store his memories, his thoughts, his emotions? Chuck had called it his own perception, so perhaps these were not complete things? Perhaps they were not visible, maybe they were laced and twined deeply within the air around him, or maybe they were buried in the earth, thrumming and flaring with life, given and fueled by each brief thought, every flicker of emotion.

Chuck chuckled, and- oh, he of all people should have been able to come up with a better description than that- God chuckled? Well, he sounded slightly insane, but better than the former, he supposed. "-No, Sam." Chuck's words interrupted his train of thought, and he found he didn't mind much. "Why don't you take a closer look?" He gestured to the big tree just over Sam's shoulder, and he found himself complying easily.

He stepped up to the ancient oak, and finally _saw_ what Chuck meant. Each leaf, every bud contained a memory. Within he could see flashes of his past, his childhood. Days spent watching tv with Dean, or swimming on hot days in nearby ponds. The closer they were to the tree, it seemed, the younger he was, and the older memories grew outwards. He could only see his younger days, currently, so he assumed the newer memories were at the top. It was then that he noticed something very odd about the memories - he could only see the ones he _wanted _to remember. With a confused frown, he felt himself giving the tree roots a compulsory glance. _Oh_.

_Running from monsters, fights with dad_… he could only imagine that his- likely plentiful- repressed memories were at the very tips of the roots, where he had no access.

He noticed another thing, soon. He had saw the memories, and _remembered_ the emotions behind them, but he hadn't _felt _them, his mind was blank, empty… Sam reached out, and brushed a gentle hand against the bark.

Happiness_ExcitementSadnessRageFear_

He pulled away with a gasp.

"I probably should have warned you against doing that," Chuck's voice sounded, undoubtedly amused, with a hint of apology, "I've been muffling your emotions a bit, and they're conjoining in the same place you store all emotions." Sam turned, raising an eyebrow, marginally more composed than a moment earlier.

"Muffling?"

Chuck grinned. "Okay, more like repressing, but I didn't want you to panic!" He justified, and Sam snorted.

"You don't have to, not anymore at least. Now that I know it's just you guys I should be alright- just don't spring anything too crazy on me." He smiled, feeling a few emotions begin to trickle in neatly.

"Okay, then let's talk."

Sam considered some sort of compulsion when he settled down comfortably in the grass, the two Beings following suit. "Why am I here?" He prompted, figuring it better if he took charge of the conversation now while he still could.

"Ah, well that's certainly not the question I wanted you to ask." He mused, taking a moment of silence to think.

"Well, here's the thing, Sam. I've made a mess, and you- with some prompting from My Sister- have taught Me something. It's My job to fix it. I can't just leave you and your brother to fix every little problem with the world, it should be My doing. It is- after all- My own creation. I claim you to be my sons and daughters, and yet I leave you all to suffer? So that's what I'm doing. Fixing my mess, starting with the most broken."

"I'm not broken." Sam spoke automatically, conditioned by years of being a Winchester, where weakness was not taken lightly. Chuck shot him a look, and his jaw snapped shut. He hadn't even notice it had opened again to continue.

"You spent five millennia with an enraged devil, being pulled apart in every way imaginable. You broke the world, multiple times, in fact, and fixed it every time. Pieced together the broken shards to the best of your ability and slapped on a band aid. You've spent years training to be a killer, a murder, something you hate, even if most of them deserved it-"

"-Stop!" Sam hissed. He had winced with every reminder, every flash of memory that flitted before his gaze. His eyes were clenched shut tightly, and his fists matched at his sides, nails digging sharply into his palm, though no bite of pain followed. "I get it."

"Do you, Sam?" Chuck asked, leaning forward suddenly when Sam's eyes snapped open. "Because I don't think you do- you know that saying? 'Tip of the iceberg?' Well what I've said? _That _is the tip of the iceberg. That tree full of memories behind you? That towers over everything else in your own mind? _That _is the tip of the iceberg, those roots go so far down you'd need a damn drill to get even half-way down. So do you? Because I can't. I can't comprehend to which extent you've been broken, and I can see _all _of you, Sam. Your mind, your soul, even your memories. _All_ of it." His voice was oddly composed for such a speech, there should have been an ounce of anger in His tone, if not pure, undiluted rage.

Sam swallowed. He had no relevant response to that- let alone comprehensible. "Oh." Was the best he could manage.

"Yeah, oh. Anyways-" it was as if his entire demeanor shifted in an instant, he became much more upbeat, shedding the solemn tone of earlier. "-In response, I've decided to send a select few-" his eyes twinkled, "-off on a vacation of sorts."

"Vacation?" To say he was glad for the change of topic would be an understatement.

"Oh yes- do you remember the books 'Harry Potter?" He asked curiously, a smile playing at his lips.

"...Yeah?"

"Good, because you won't for very much longer." Sam's brows furrowed for a moment, before his eyes lit with understanding.

"Are- are you sending us to Hogwarts?" His eyes widened, and he couldn't stop the faint bounce that accompanied his words. He'd loved Harry Potter since he was young, so to finally be apart of such a lovely world…

Chuck's eyes glittered with joy, "yes."

Amara spoke up for the first time, she too carried a hint of a smile, "though we wouldn't want any spoilers, off course. You'd know that you were inside of a book series you've read- but you won't remember a single thing about said series. Okay?"

Sam nodded his agreement, he understood why he would not be allowed to remember it. He would have to suffer war blindly, but it wasn't as if it was anything new, he'd been fighting blindly his entire life, and no wars were without casualties, without sacrifices.

"Now," Chuck continued, "I've decided to give you and your brother- who, _yes _is going with you- a little gift." He reached out across the space between them to grab hold of something just over Sam's shoulders. He gasped, it felt like someone had just grabbed his arm- but, different… for one, he knew he did not have an arm on his back attached to his lower shoulder blades, and second, whatever it was _wasn't _an arm. Now aware of it, he understood that it felt like a-

Wing. Chuck had just pulled a wing from behind his back- had folded it around so the soft converts brushed against his arm and shoulders- and the thing unfurled between them. Sam had _wings._

"Sorry, that's why you were asleep so long- it isn't easy to turn a human into an angel, you know." Sam's mind spluttered to a stop. Did he say… angel?

"Yep, an angel. Wings, grace, blade, all the works. Congratulations, Sam." His mind was still blank, shocked into silence. He felt like an outsider, watching in as he slowly began to extend the free wing, turning to look over his shoulders as it flared and re-furled. Beneath dark feathers he could see- could _feel _the muscles shifting, smooth as each piece worked in harmony to create movement. Somehow, he expected it to feel awkward, or jerky or-or _something! _But it didn't, it just felt… right.

When his mind jolted back into wakefulness, his first thought was- oddly enough- _I have pretty wings. _And they _were_… pretty… with long, neat feathers in a deep, dark reddish-brown colour, a few scattered within were a sharp gold, or a wine red, a soft cream or even a mud brown, creating a contrast for the regular feathers, which were a mix of all the colours. Even gold, now that he took a closer look. In fact, they looked more like they belonged to a girl than a 6'5" hunter. Speaking of measurements, just a single wing looked to be about eight or nine feet across, which- factoring in his body- was at most an entire wingspan of between sixteen and eighteen feet.

"Close, actually, your entire wingspan is actually twenty-two feet, with your wings each at ten." Chuck supplied with a shrug, "what can I say? I like even numbers." Sam blinked.

Okay. Okay. That was… impressive.

"Anyways, Sam, I do have to speak with the others as well, I have two more after you, so I'll leave you with this. You won't understand why you're going with the people you are, at first. But you will, eventually. My advice? Let go, relax, and don't act too harshly."

"No fights," Amara added softly. "Goodbye, Sam. We'll meet again soon."

"Goodbye, Sam."

Sam blinked, and then they were gone. "Goodbye." He whispered softly to the empty air, before everything went dark, and he was plunged back into the land of the living.

**S**am awoke to silence. He was alone when he sat up, sitting in a plain room with only a dresser and the very bed he lay on to show for. He sighed softly, running a hand through his hair, before he turned to his wings. He had yet to touch them, and the feathers did look quite soft. He imagined it might have some sort of calming effect, likely akin to running a hand through your hair, but stronger.

The second his fingertips touched feathers of silk, his mind was overtaken by electricity. He jerked his hand away, stifling a startled noise. It was like tingles, all throughout both of his wings, and it spread down along his back until he shivered. Damn.

"They'll calm down a little bit, but they'll always be sensitive like that-" a familiar voice commented from the doorway, "-they need to sense air currents." Sam swung around, eyes wide as they focused on a very familiar- very _dead_Alive man.

"Gabriel?" He was leaning against the wall, just next to the door, arms crossed over his chest in a motion he had come to know as defensive.

"That's my name, don't wear it out." His tone was light, but with a notably dark edge. Sam blinked, and very quickly realized what his wings were doing. They were quite ruffled, half-curled around him, as if ready to defend against an enemy at any instant. Then, he noticed Gabriel's wings. There were six of them, and the glowing gold nearly burned his eyes. They were half-spread, ready to take off at any instant. _Nervous. _His brain supplied, though he had little time to wonder just how he knew that as the blonde spoke.

"We were wondering when you were gonna wake up, kiddo."

"We?" Sam started, before shaking his head, "nevermind, where's Dean, or Cas? Where am I? And how did you get here- weren't you dead?"

Gabriel gave a wry smile and kicked off the wall, arms uncrossing as he stepped up to the bed. " I was, then Dad decided he didn't like that. Little Cassie and Deany-boy are still asleep, as for where you are, though?" He just shrugged. "I dunno, we all woke up here."

Gabriel seemed to realize that his wings betrayed his mood, because they furled to his back, and his posture straightened slightly.

"Still asleep? They must be who Chuck said he needed to speak to next. Can you take me to see them? And who is 'we', by the way? Chuck said there would be others, but I never expected you, and with his last words I'm a little worried about who he's talking about." Sam returned his wry smile. "Let me guess, one of them is the devil."

"Wow, nothing gets past you, kiddo. Looks like Luci, Mikey, myself-" he winked, "-of course, little baby Cassie and Deany-boy are going to Hogwarts. Together."

Sam's eyes widened a fraction, "Michael?" He certainly hadn't expected that.

"Yes?" Sam blinked, startled as a man- no, an angel appeared in the doorway. He was in an unfamiliar vessel, a handsome male with raven black hair, pale skin and bright, sky blue eyes, though Sam imagined Michael was to blame for the ethereal glow to his eyes. He too had six wings, though not like any Sam had ever seen before.

Gabriel's and his own could both- if not for the colour- be mistaken for birdwings, with Sam's at a neat, long and slender shape, and Gabriel's at a short, broader shape, but Michael's most certainly could not. Unlike the neat converts of a bird wing, Michael's topmost feathers were messy and upturned faintly, looking more than a little unsuitable for flight. However, it was his primaries and secondary's' that were the oddest. While the converts ranged from the size of his pinky finger to the size of his middle finger, the primaries and secondary's were even longer than his arm, and as long as his fist. His total wingspan must have been around thirty feet! They were all as white as snow, giving of a glow, akin to sunlight hitting quartz constantly, and it looked as if each of the feathers had been dipped in gold.

Just a normal day as a Winchester. Yep.

"I hadn't expected you," Sam blurted, "the thought that you might be here didn't even cross my mind." His voice was much softer than he'd prefer, and he faintly registered Gabriel leaving with his hands raised placatingly. In the cage, Michael and Sam had grown close, they could even be considered friends.

Michael had whisked him away from Lucifer as often as he could, and for hours they would just talk. Sam had run out of stories after the first century, but Michael never minded.

The ravenet nodded, and Sam could see the faint upturn of his lips.

"I assume you would like to see your brother and Castiel?" He offered politely, raising an eyebrow. Sam nodded and stood swiftly.

He followed Michael into a brightly lit hallway, shutting the door behind him. He found- with surprised- that in what looked like real gold, letters had been formed. In his own, neat handwriting, the name 'Sam' stood out from the bright white coloured paint of the door. He glanced around the rest of the hall, and found that the other doors matched his owns aesthetic. Dean, written in messy, cramped printing. Castiel written in small, neat cursive. Michael was written in a slightly messy cursive, while Gabriel's looked like the epitome of extra, filled with far too many twists and loops. Lucifer's was a neat cursive as well, probably the fanciest aside from Gabriel's. Sam was situated in between Lucifer and Gabriel, with Dean directly across from him, Castiel from Gabriel, and Michael from Lucifer.

"Huh."

Michael led him into Dean's room, and he remembered swiftly what Gabriel had said about him still being asleep- except he wasn't. Dean was sat up in bed, rubbing at his face, though he did look up at the sound of the door opening, gaze locking with Sam's, before drifting to Michael's, then their wings.

Dean's were sleek and sharp, shorter than Sam's own with a swirl of different grey shades and tones, a few carried a faint hue of brown, while others were nearly black. He noticed, however, that none appeared even close to white, the lightest were a steel grey.

"Chuck talk to you, too?" He grunted, and Sam could see very clearly the concealed comment.

"Oh, spit it out, Dean."

"Your wings are kind of girly, dude."

"And yours look like it's about to rain - better grab an umbrella, huh?" Dean snorted at the sharp sarcasm and got to his feet, stretching. "Besides, mine are bigger. I wonder if that's saying something?" He suggested with a cheeky light in his eyes.

Dean raised an eyebrow, "I mean, not that size matters, or anything, but yours are definitely compensating for something."

"If mine are then so are yours, and you wings are quite broad as well, I-" they were startled from their banter by a throat clearing, and Sam noticed Michael fighting a smile.

"I apologize for interrupting, but we should probably head downstairs, yes?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"Hang on," Dean cut off, brow furrowed, "Sam, who is this guy?"

Sam blinked, then seemingly recalled that Dean had not been there when they had met once more, nor had he known Michael well enough that even if he had been there, he would have actually recognized him (apart from the whole, "Michael?" "Yes?" thing, of course).

"Oh, sorry Dean." He frowned, "I guess you don't really know our newest companions going into Hogwarts, huh? For one, Gabriel's back and tagging along. Cas is- as usual- coming with, and-" he grimaced, understanding that Dean's reaction was likely to be either harsh or explosive- or both. "-And then, there's... Michael and Lucifer."

"What?!" Yep, both. Sam winced.

"You mean to tell me that we're going to have to spend, what, six- seven years with the devil and Mr. Good-son over here?" He gestured at Michael, and Sam felt a hint of hot, righteous anger curl in his stomach at that. "They wanted to start the _apocalypse, _Sam, the end of all things! They'd have used us as meatsuits and fought to the death, uncaring about the millions of people bound to die! And-"

"Then go blame Chuck!" Sam snapped, rendering his brother silent. He'd been angry, they'd _both _been angry lately, and there was no way around it. It was… odd, to say the least. He had no idea where the anger came from, or why it was so bad, o violent, but it was there, and he couldn't stop it. "Have you forgotten just who helped us stopped Amara? The damn Devil, that's right, Lucifer. We put our differences aside then! I know, seven years with them? You never signed up for that, and you're worried. I get it. But don't take your anger out on me- them either. Just _calm down_."

Dean took a deep breath, nodding. He released it after a moment, and spoke again. "You're right, I'm sorry." Sam was faintly surprised at the apology. "I can't be like this all the time. We were gonna head downstairs, right?"

Sam nodded, and then they were following Michael out into the hall and then down the stairs. The halls were kind of soothing, with soft cream floors and the same dark wood flooring that had followed them into the rooms. The house was new, and therefore foreign, so he took careful not of where Michael led them. They past Castiel and Gabriel's room, then turned left, where a set of dark stairs were clearly visible. Behind that, it seemed as if the hall extended into some sort of sitting area.

His suspicions were confirmed when Michael voiced it. "Past there is a sitting room, and a deck. He gestured to the right of Castiel's room, there is another just out there." They trailed down the steps, and Michael pointed to a door on the right once they hit the bottom. "That's a training room, inside is a small storage room, and you can use it to get into the kitchen if need be." They wandered down the hallway, towards the only other door in the entire space. Through it was clearly an entrance hall, where the wood floors changed to stone. To the left was the front door, and once more to the right was a large living room that gave way into a kitchen about the same size.

"That's the bathroom- or, one of them." Michael gestured to the door in the kitchen, and then led them to where they could see the room extending off the kitchen and to the right, curbing the training room. "And finally, that is the dining room. There are a few others I forgot to show you, the basement, which is just a laundry room and a sort of game room, and the second bathroom, which is in the bedroom hall."

"I presume that Gabriel is in the game room, and I know Lucifer is outside. Feel free to do what you'd like, until Castiel wakes up, then we are all going to have a conversation about what comes next." Michael shot them a faint smile, then, disappeared back towards the upstairs as the tour concluded.

Sam blinked.

That was… odd… perhaps their fight made the archangel uncomfortable, he knew he likely wasn't very welcome around Dean at the moment.

Sam settled into a comfortable white couch, watching as Dean peeked curiously into the training room, raising an eyebrow at his whistle of appreciation. "Damn, not too bad- almost as good as the bunker. _Almost_." Sam smiled, reassured by his more relaxed attitude. It was good that Dean had calmed, he had a quick temper, and today had been stressful.

"Apparently it did not take as long as I had expected." Michael had returned, this time with Castiel in tow.

"We met in the hallway." Cas elaborated, his voice as gruff as always.

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"I suppose I'll go and get my brothers, then." Michael made his uncomfortable escape, tone strained as he started back for the hall.

Sam took the time to examine Castiel's wings. They looked like miniature galaxies, a deep, empty black filled with blue and purple nebulas that seemed to move in thin wisps of the inky blackness of his wings, thousands of silver dots Sam recognized as stars were scattered within. His wings were messy, each feather curled at the tip until the image of the galaxy was slightly askew, just a little _too _off-center. It was adorable, and fit Castiel's personality quite well in Sam's appearance. Mysterious and cryptic on the surface, but with a good, kind heart and a curious nature. Sam found himself smiling slightly, not even caring too much that Cas and Dean had been talking while he zoned out, and that they were now in the middle of a conversation. He was too far entrapped in his musings to pay attention anyways, thinking about the early days, before Castiel had become Cas, before he had become a brother. Yes, mysterious and cryptic at first, and a truly great heart.


	2. How to be an Angel 101

**Okay, hello, here's chapter 2! There are a few things I want to address right now, first, do **_**not **_**expect regular updates. It might take me days, it might take me months, I have no idea. I think that may have been one of the reasons I lost interest in the first version, I was forcing myself to write when I didn't want to, when I had no inspiration. Plus, it's only march break, I imagine it'll be difficult to write until the summer, but I'll do my best.**

**Second is the pairings, they have changed a little bit. It's hard to explain the whole flock dynamic, but you'll learn as we go along. Basically though, for each character this is who they are in a romantic relationship with. ****Sam**/**Gabriel/Michael/Lucifer, ****Dean**/**Castiel/Michael, ****Castiel****/Dean/Michael/Gabriel, ****Michael****/Dean/Castiel/Sam, ****Lucifer****/Gabriel/Sam,****Gabriel****/Lucifer/Sam/Castiel Yeah, complicated. I know - but you'll get it as we go along, so don't try and memorize that or anything. Anyways, I'll see you!**

* * *

**S**am found himself picking at a stray piece of skin around his nails at the uncomfortable atmosphere. Michael had returned with both Gabriel and Lucifer, and now each waited in thick, tense silence for _someone_ to say _something_. The air was warm- overly warm? Hm, no, that was _tension_. Made the damn room feel like there was much less oxygen. _Someone please say something._

Michael cleared his throat, snapping the silence like a meager rubber band, and a sharp flash of relief, cold like ice flared through his chest. "I suppose I will begin. We are going to be living together for a minimum of seven years, and we're going to have to get along." Sam couldn't help but be reminded of the other speeches Michael had delivered in the cage, each as inspiring as the last. This would be good - he could already feel the telltale stirring of determination, a flash of loyalty and something else he couldn't identify congealing in his chest to make for an odd combination. "I know, we've all done things, we all have our differences, but if we want a chance at surviving these years-" cue light, determined chuckle from everyone, "-then we'll have to work together. We have two, new fledglings, the first in eons. Now, I know it's been a little while, but surely we have not forgotten our duty? Untrained fledglings can be a handful, this we all know." He shot a pointed glance at Gabriel, who just smirked right back at his older brother.

"It is our duty, to teach them, besides, let's be honest, who wants to have their nests set on fire again?"

"That was one time!" Gabriel protested, earning a raised eyebrow from everyone, "okay, maybe three."

"Little brother, I quite vividly remember waking up on fire a total of _six_ times, and that's just myself. Poor Raph had it so much worse, sleeping next to you, and all." Lucifer commented, much to Gabriel's embarrassment.

"Yeah? Well who kept making it night time whenever they got annoyed!" He rebuttaled with a hint of petulance, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at his older siblings.

"Gabriel," Michael grinned, "_neither_ of your elements are fire, in fact, _mine _is. Tell me, how did you manage to set our nests on fire so many times by _accident_?"

Gabriel huffed. "You're an accident!"

Michael raised an eyebrow, "actually, I very clearly was not - considering I was _created_. Good to see you haven't lost that same temper of yours, though." He turned to Lucifer and spoke in a deadpan tone, "you'd better go make sure there aren't any fires nearby." Everyone- except poor Gabriel of course, who squawked indignantly- broke out into snorts of laughter.

Tension absolved. Point to Michael and Lucifer.

"Let's just get to work, okay?" Gabriel asked with a pout as he stood, the rest following suit. Sam couldn't help but compare their actions to himself and Dean. Naturally, as the younger brother, he'd always been the butt of the joke - not that he'd minded as much as he pretended, and he could tell Gabriel didn't either.

He would be the first to admit that he had no idea what was going on as they filed into the training room.

"Now," Michael began, "back home, we used to teach the fledglings everything they know, and since you are now fledglings…" he smiled, "anyways, generally there would be pre-lessons teaching you to control your grace- not done by us, so that'll need a bit of tweaking- and then, once they were old enough we would each teach them certain subjects, though Raphael isn't here either, so Castiel will have to fill in."

"So, I think that Lucifer will be teaching you to use your grace, as his usual subject will not be of much used to you as adults." He turned to Lucifer and Gabriel, muttering something quietly, though Sam managed to catch, "same routine."

When everyone nodded, he turned back to the fledglings and spoke, "Alright, your first lessons will be with me, physical activity, fighting, and such. Next with Lucifer, who will teach you how to control your grace, and some history. Then with Castiel, who will teach you about healing, and finally with Gabriel, who will be educating you about our culture and flight as well." He scanned everyone for any signs of protest, then asked, "any questions?"

"Yeah," Dean furrowed his brows, "Sam and I already know how to fight, so what will you be teaching us?"

Michael huffed, "you fight like humans, you'd never stand a chance against a proper soldier like Castiel, let alone an archangel myself." Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Michael cut him off, "Castiel has always let you win so as to not injure you, and taken all of the proper soldiers in battle - you've been fighting little more than grunts and pawns, you'd stand no chance against the knights, let alone the nobles and kings." Sam felt a flash of curiosity at the mention of their hierarchy, and the analogy. Dean was clearly annoyed.

Michael read Dean like an open book, something not many had the ability to do, and gestured him forward. "To summon your blade, you have to need it. Convince yourself that you need your blade and it will come to you." His blade fell easily into his hands. It was so much different from the regular angel blade, it was practically glowing white, even in the dull light, and it was much longer, sharper. The hilt was decorated with many dark rubies that seemed to swirl with a fiery red and orange.

Dean furrowed his brows, then, after a long moment, he too was holding a blade, though his looked bland in comparison, despite the natural beauty they had always carried before.

Michael lunged, he didn't bother to give Dean a chance to adjust, just swiped automatically, eyes flashing. Dean ducked aside in the nick of time, and slashed back instinctively with his blade, the male twisting away with ease. He lunged again before Dean could right himself and their blades met with a fierce clang. Dean didn't seem all that surprised when his arm was practically tossed aside with a parry, and just leapt backwards, dodging the snow coloured blade as it nearly caught his chest. Only a few more blows like that had Dean on the ground.

Michael had just wiped the floor with his older brother.

On the sidelines, the others looked amused. "Still believe your fighting will be enough?" Lucifer piped up. Dean just groaned a curse in response.

Michael shot the devil a look, then turned back to face everyone while Dean rolled to his feet. "Castiel and Sam next, neither of you hold out."

Sam held out against Castiel longer than Dean with Michael, but in the end he finished with his arms pinned behind his back and a sharp blade pressed against his throat. Okay, he understood the need to learn to fight like an angel. They were much faster, more graceful, Dean and Sam were more powerful, more brutal, but sloppier.

"I suppose I'll leave you with that for today, and we can properly begin tomorrow. It is prudent that you learn to control your grace, so I will hand you over for now." He gestured to Lucifer, who took the stand.

"Now, controlling your grace is actually a lot easier than it sounds - it has everything to do with emotions and intent. You can be angry all you want, but if you lose control for even a second, if you want to hurt someone or something, you run the risk of setting someone on fire, or blowing something up. It depends on your inclination, different angels do better with different jobs, and their emotions have different effects. Today, we're going to figure out your inclination, or what most just call your elements." He clapped his hands, then made a motion with his finger. Sam found himself dropped into a sitting position, legs crossed. He glared, disconcerted at how easy it had been for the angel to make him do something he had not specifically wanted to do.

"It's better sitting, believe me." He took a deep breath, then began. "I want you to close your eyes, and reach down deep. You're going to find your grace. I can't tell you what it'll look like, but I can say that you'll know."

Well that was helpful.

Sam felt a flash of irritation as his eyes fluttered shut focusing instinctively on his other senses to get a better feel for his surroundings now that his main sense was lacking. It was a habit that their father had unfortunately kicked into them at a young age, and now it hindered his ability to focus inwards and meditate. He wanted to focus on finding his grace, relaxing, but instead his body was too busy noticing that the air smelled of ozone and cinnamon. John- in the case of emergency- had drilled into them that if they couldn't see what was going on directly, they needed to "see" with their other senses. It had come in handy plenty thus far, but right now it made Sam want to bang his head into a wall.

Icy fingertips rested gently on the back of his neck, sending a wave of cold tingles down along his spine, and up into his mind. He felt his senses relax, and dropped suddenly, like the floor had given out beneath him. He was in a dark, shadowed corridor, and from his place he could see hundreds more branching off from the main hall, sending out an intricate web of hallways and paths. Great, a maze, and there was a roof so no cheating either. How was he even supposed to know what he was looking for? He'd had no explanation, other than that he'd just _know_. Yeah, easy for an eon-old angel to explain, especially when his charges had been former humans transitioned into angels - there was no way of knowing what was different or the same, not to mention their entire mentalities were completely different-! What was that? A flicker, he'd just spotted a flicker of bronze down one of the halls. He started towards it warily.

_Left. Right. Straight. Right._ This place really _was_ a maze, figures Sam's mind would be a- oh. _Sam's_ mind. This was his own mind - which meant his rules, right?

His voice echoed loudly, reverberating hundreds of times in the empty maze as he spoke. _Take me to my grace, show me the way._

A faint hiss sounded from the darkness, and then a bright, white light shot out of the shadows, giving Sam no time to move as it wrapped tightly around his wrist, and began pulling him further into the intricate mess of halls. Sam stumbled forward, eyes wide. He felt no ill intent- probably what kept his panic at bay- but it was still a little creepy, this bright light was just dragging him down a string of empty hallways.

He followed it for what felt like forever, until finally he came to this giant room, it towered hundreds of feet above him, and before him the floor gave way, slowly falling into an abyss of darkness. He swallowed and focused on his grace in the center. It was massive, floating in the middle of the great room, it extended in sharp, glowing wisps, a massive swirl of white and bronze. Swift as a snake, the light uncoiled from his wrist and snapped back into his grace like a rubber band had broken.

Disjointed and amused, a voice broke through to him. '_Good, Sam. Now… call your elements to you, bend them to your will.'_

He swallowed and steeled himself. He reached out his hands, not quite sure where his actions came as he held his palms up to the glowing mass. _Come._ It moved at the speed of light, there was the loud crackle of electricity in the air, and then lightning shot from the great swirl of bronze and white- which now he thought he could see a hint of gold and deep blue and purple from- and jerked into a speed-filled ball in front of his palms. It lurched and rolled until it settled with spinning around so fast it had turned into a blur. Next, a great roar sounded, like the massive waves that would come crashing down over the sand around the ocean, and then he found a floating circle of water hovering just in front of his other palm.

'_Now open your eyes, Sam…'_

He did as told, and found himself staring down into the same scene as before, though this time, it was reality. Electricity crackled loudly, resting just above the palm of his hands. Every once in awhile he would feel a small jolt enter his arm, though it never once hurt. He blinked, wondering curiously what would happen if he combined them. Sure, he knew the natural reaction that would occur of course, anything ranging from an electrified mass to a full on explosion could happen, depending on the voltage. But this wasn't natural electricity, it was that formed of an angels grace - perhaps a little experiment was in order. Too bad he didn't have rubber gloves. Oh well, three archangels and an angel should be enough. Everyone seemed to be crowding Dean at the moment, as he still had not gotten it. Only Gabriel was watching.

He sucked in a breath and shifted the water until it congealed in a small blob around his finger, though he dared not let it touch as he forced some of the electricity to do the same on the other hand. Gabriel seemed to know what he was planning, because he shot Sam a smirk and nodded, holding up his own hand, which glowed with the familiar healing energy briefly. Good, he had a failsafe in case things went south. What could he say? He'd always been curious - too much so for his own good, as evident now. He just did it, closed the gap between the two dangerous forces of nature, and watched the resulting events with wide eyes.

The electricity gave a _very _loud crackle and then began to dance sharply around the water for a brief instant before- _boom._

_Oops._

_That was… even cooler than he'd imagined. _

Uh-oh, the loud noise had captured everyone else's attention. Gabriel was snickering loudly, Lucifer looked amused, Castiel looked surprised and Michael… Michael looked just short of enraged. _Oops._

"Look! Dean got his elements!" He deflected, watching Dean's eyes pop open, revealing a sharp flame dancing in the palm of his hand, and the whistling of wind in the second one. Okay, he hadn't expected it to _explode. _Not quite at least… He had expected- well, he'd expected what had happened before the explosion, the mixing of the elements, and it had looked quite awesome as well. Perhaps he'd used too much electricity? Another go would probably do - I mean, it would be helpful if he could just lob balls of electrified water at his enemies, the water would scatter, spreading over the earth as well, creating a deadly obstacle.

He gathered more to try again.

"No." A hand wrapped around his wrist tightly. He looked up to find Michael watching him with a sharp expression, and his elements fizzled out. He gave an innocent grin, it wasn't his fault he was curious! Michael gave him a quick, stern glare, and then let go, turning to go and speak with Lucifer, who was helping Dean.

"Ignore him," an amused voice sounded next to his ear, and then Gabriel moved to sit across from him, sucking on a cherry lollipop. "He's a worrywart - always has been. The curse of the oldest occurred even in the _oldest_ of all the angels." Sam blinked.

"Nice idea, by the way. You almost had it." His eyes twinkled, the sunlight-through-whiskey colour flashing a brilliant gold. "Took Raph and I a few tries to get it right as well." He held up his hand, fingers splayed like they were prepared to snap, though instead, bright, gold electricity formed, giving a loud, humming crackle before fizzling out. Once more, Sam blinked.

"Your element is electricity as well?" Sam found himself asking, head tilting.

"Yeppers," he agreed, leaning back, "lightning and wind, cool huh? Raphie was earth and water, Mikey's fire and light while Lucy's ice and darkness. By the way, you had too much electricity - want me to show you how?" Sam found himself nodding, eager to learn more about what was to be his new future.

"Give me some water, will you?" Sam moved to close his eyes, but the archangel stopped him, "you don't have to do that every time, just the first one to show you where your grace is. For now, just focus on the feeling the elements gave you, then you'll find them again." Sam nodded, focusing on the cool feeling in his chest he had overlooked in favour of watching when the water had come to him. He felt something stirring in his heart, and then watched as water slowly began to form in his palm, light and nearly clear as it slowly churned, floating above his hand.

Gabriel smiled, "good, little more please," he held out his hands, "about this much." It was probably a little larger than Sam's hand by the time he finished, and he watched as Gabriel prepared some electricity. "You only need about this much." it crackled out until it was the length of his finger, though it made much more noise than Sam's did - perhaps because it was more powerful? He pressed it slowly into the water, and Sam watched as lightning began to crackle in and around the mass of water. Creating an eerie purple glow around it. "Mostly, though, it just takes practice, soon enough you'll know instinctively how much to add." He smiled even as Sam's water faded, and offered the man a lollipop he'd summoned. Strawberry, Sam's favourite.

"Thanks," the brunet thanked, taking the unwrapped lollipop with a faint smile.

"Alright," Lucifer spoke up suddenly, "I guess I'll hand over the floor to Castiel now, tomorrow we'll work on shifting sights - and planes." He gave a brief, amused smirk at that.

Castiel seemed to take his role in charge quite well, because he had the audacity to _shoo _the archangels out. "Go find another way to entertain yourselves, healing is a private affair, and I cannot have you messing it up. Go on, out!" Sam smirked at the gobsmacked expression Lucifer bore, and turned his attention to see what Gabriel and Michael thought of the pushy seraph. Gabriel looked like he was having a field day with his wicked grin, and Michael looked vaguely amused, the corners of his lips upturned. Eventually, Cas managed to get rid of them, leaving the dubbed 'team free will' alone in the massive training room.

"Now, healing. It probably isn't quite how you imagine it to be- while commanding your grace is almost entirely based on intent, healing is based on emotions, feeling. You need to be calm, level-headed, and most of all, you need love." Sam blinked. "Love is the basis for healing - you cannot fix someone without love, compassion and care." He drew his angel blade, and then approached Sam.

"Which is exactly why you will be practicing on each other. Sam, may I cut your arm for Dean to heal?" Sam nodded, watching as Castiel made a small nick in his arm with the blade. "The wound is only surface deep, so it will not damage your grace. Come here, Dean."

Dean stepped up to the two, watching with a hint of apprehension in his forest coloured eyes. "Place your hands over the wound, and then I want you to summon up your love for Sam, focus on the feeling of warmth, elation, and then focus it into the thought of healing Sam." Dean nodded and focused, his brow furrowing. It took a few minutes, but eventually a bright light began to shine from the palms of his hands, and Sam felt the telltale warmth, before his skin began to knit back together.

"I did it!" He looked elated, pupils blown faintly.

Castiel shot him an amused look, "yes, you did. I should have warned you - it's a bit of a rush."

He made a cut on Dean's forearm, and Sam found himself thinking of all the times he and Dean had spent together, of all the rushes of emotion he felt when Dean did something as simple as mess up his hair, or pat him on the back. Warmth enveloped him until his find was fuzzy with it, and the small injury had faded into nothing. "Wow."

"Indeed. All angels are born naturally with a base love for anything and anyone, and none can erase it - no matter how hard they try. Lucifer, for example, may hate humans, but he also loves them, he can't help it." Sam blinked, contemplating that new bit of information now that his miniature high had passed. Interesting.

"I suppose we had better get you out to Gabriel so you can begin to practice flying."

They met Gabriel on the way through the kitchen, and _everyone _started for outside. Seems Michael and Lucifer were waiting for them while Gabriel was cooking something in a crockpot that looked suspiciously like potato soup.

Sam found that their yard was quite pretty, their house was centered in a large field with even more room as they wandered into the back. They were surrounded completely by a humongous forest on all sides, with a few stone paths leading from their front door into trails he could faintly see snaking through the woods. They had a circular backyard at about a hundred yards lengthwise from the house to the first few trees, and about a hundred and fifty for width. In total, they had a frickin huge yard.

"Okay!" Gabriel clapped his hands, his voice seemed to carry throughout the entire field as he spoke. "I'ma be teaching you little fledgies to fly, ready now?"

"Get yourselves off the ground, go!" Dean took a similar approach to the angels of their life, staying in one place. He flapped his wings harshly for a moment, before jumping, gaining only a few meters of air before he stumbled back to the ground. Sam, however, took a more logical approach. He took a few steps back, before taking off in a run. His wings extended to their full length, and he beat them lightly as he gained speed, slowly gathering more air beneath him. Finally, he felt his legs leave the ground, and then, Sam was flying.


	3. Flight and Letters of Magic

**S**am was only airborne for about fifteen seconds of pure, undiluted freedom, gaining a total of twenty feet of air before he found himself crashing back down into the unforgiving earth, catching himself with his feet for a brief instant before his face hit the floor. Ow. It didn't help that he could hear Gabriel laughing in the background, probably bent over in his humour. People always laughed when others got hurt, but when they did themselves it was not so funny. He looked up with a glare, just in time to watch Michael cuff him over the head roughly, lips pulled into a disapproving line. Dean too was picking himself off the floor, though his fall had clearly been much more dignified, with him landing on his back.

"You're supposed to catch yourself with your hands, not your face, Sammy, dear!" Michael hit Lucifer over the head as well, face carefully blank.

"Oh shut up!" Sam spat and got to his feet, trying to ignore the weakness in his legs. Flight had been exhilarating, and he felt ready to give out from the amount of adrenaline soaring through his veins.

"He's right, Lucy dear," Michael's odd tone of voice stopped all hints of laughter, "or I may just have to tell him what happened the first time you tried to fly." The devil paled, leaving his older brother with a smug smirk. Sam couldn't help but smirk himself- if it was bad enough to have Lucifer looking like that, he had to know. For insurance, of course.

"You had the right idea, Sammy!" He called insead, laughing nervously as he shot a glance towards his older brother.

Castiel rolled his eyes at their antics, and called helpfully, "Dean, you're trying to do something too complicated for you - you need to begin like Sam did, taking of from a standing position will come later. Sam, you did alright but you need to curl your wings more, and don't panic when you become shaky."

Sam nodded and took off running once more. The first beat of his wings was measured, low, barely there, the second was more powerful, curled faintly at the tips. He continued racing forward until he had begun to near the trees, and then his feet began to leave the ground of their own accord. He worked harder now, pounding his wings with enough force that three beats had him back at his former height of twenty feet. His wings shook, unused to the feeling of flight they tilted his movements faintly until he forced them back into position. his heart was beating loudly in his chest until it was all he could hear, it drowned out his own excited cries. He felt like he could rule the world, and he was moving so fast that he had left everyone behind in a manner of moments. He soared over the treetops now, and if he fell… Sam stumbled, his flight faltered and then he went careening for the treetops. He tried to right himself, wings beating harshly, uselessly. Oh God, he was going to crash straight through those branches-

Then warm arms wrapped around his own, and he found himself jerked to a stop quite suddenly, breath leaving his lungs. Behind him he could hear steady wingbeats, and could feel the warmth of another person's chest. His arm were wedged awkwardly between their elbow as it bore the brunt of his weight, the person's arms rested carefully on his shoulders. "You did well until you doubted yourself. The more you worry the more likely it is you'll fall." Michael was behind him, holding him aloft, feet dangling inches before the treetops, his wings squished uselessly between them. "I'm going to bring us higher, then I will let you go. Drop into flight, it isn't too complicated." He felt the air around them change as Michael's wings began to shift movements, allowing them to rise higher. The trees fell away beneath them, and then he felt the grip on his arms adjust.

"Don't panic, are you ready?" Sam took a deep breath and nodded, trying to calm his racing heart. "Good." The grip shifted again until his arms were held by careful hands, and then Michael threw him.

He floundered for a second, arms waving frantically, comically, before he managed to get himself horizontal, and his wings caught him. It strained at his muscles as his wings were lifted above him for a moment, but didn't hurt much as he began his way back towards the clearing, which he could just faintly see in the distance. "How did you know I was falling? You weren't following me before." He asked when Michael dropped so he was flying just above Sam, six wings working in perfect harmony to keep him aloft, much steadier than Sam was.

"When in distress a fledgling will flare their grace, I was just the one to answer." He responded quickly, casting Sam a glance as they drew closer to the house.

Sam found himself landing with much more ease than the first time, though he still stumbled when his feet hit the ground. At least this time he stayed standing.

* * *

**D**ean couldn't help but remember how Castiel would often disappear mid-conversation, and how he didn't bother to move as his wings carried him away. He tried to replicate it, unfurling his large wings and beginning to beat them as hard as he could. Wind whipped around him, it mussed his hair but he couldn't bring himself to care as he felt his heart pound louder, echoing in his ears. It wasn't working, just staying in one position, so he bent himself over faintly, allowing his wings to aim downwards. He felt his wings curl sharply, just barely brushing with the tips of his longest feathers. He felt his feet grow lighter, though it wasn't nearly enough. He jumped, and then watched as the floor slowly grew further and further from him.

Dean let out a whoop, straightening up slightly. He was doing it! He was flying.

Suddenly, something went wrong, he couldn't place what and didn't care to as he flipped, and his back met the dirt with a rough thud, wings pinned painfully between them.

He groaned, picking himself off the ground just in time to watch Sam's face hit the floor. He winced, glad that he had just fallen on his back, and turned to glare at Gabriel and Lucifer. They were both laughing at Sam, and he felt a rush of anger. It was their own damn fault for not teaching them to fly. He couldn't hear what was said, he was too far away, but he was thankful when Michael smacked them both.

Castiel turned, first to him, and then to Sam as he cried his advice. "Dean, you're trying to do something too complicated for you - you need to begin like Sam did, taking of from a standing position will come later. Sam, you did alright but you need to curl your wings more, and don't panic when you become shaky."

Dean nodded, watching Sam for a moment so he could copy the movements, and then he took off running. Sam was different than him, his wings were bigger, longer, and he knew instinctively that Sam's method wouldn't quite work for him - he couldn't do it if he barely moved his wings, so he focused hard, and curled them once more until the tips of his feathers brushed. He was slower than Sam, but only by a fraction as he raced over the smooth grass, and then, it happened! He felt his legs leave the ground, and did his best to tuck his legs behind him. He got quite high, before he noticed Sam flying back towards them, and forced himself to land.

He fell back into a brief jog afterwards to compensate for the shockwave, and then turned to start back for the group of angels watching him with an approving gaze. He puffed out his chest, and couldn't help but wonder if he might like to be an angel.

* * *

**E**veryone was already there when they landed, and Gabriel smiled. "Alright, good work, guys, now it's time to put you fledgies to the test." He grabbed hold of both Sam and Dean, and then with a sharp flap of his golden coloured wings, they found themselves standing suddenly on a mountain, overlooking a deep valley. Sam blinked, he was used to 'angel airways' enough that he didn't falter as he once had, instead he just turned to Gabriel and asked the question on his mind.

"How do you do that?" Gabriel gave him a mysterious smile and winked.

"I opened a door." Just then the others appeared, landing beside them easily and crowding to watch the proceedings. They had not witnessed a scene like this in a long time, generally it was a much larger group, but all of Heaven would gather to watch their newest brothers and sisters put themselves to test on the edge of a cliff. When fledgelings first entered flight class, they had yet to grow their flight feathers, and instead spent months building up the muscles in their wings while they waited - their first, proper flight was considered a coming-of-age event, a way of welcoming them into their teenage years. The first, measly "flights" where they got themselves maybe twenty feet off the ground were nothing compared to this.

Gabriel said as much.

"This is your first, true flight - what you did before? That was nothing. Back in Heaven, every angel would have gathered to watch this, it was your first thing you did as a teen." He stood up straighter, tilting his chin up. "I want you to crouch on the edge of that cliff, and when I tell you, you are to jump off, and fly."

Sam blinked, but did as told, and crouched along the edge of the cliff, knowing better than to look down. Dean was beside him, or well… there was enough space between them that both could spread their wings and still have room for a person spreading their arms, but they were still beside each other. He took a breath and tried to calm his racing heart. They had to be miles above the ground, and the other end of the valley was just as far.

"Oh, and by the way? You aren't allowed to land on the other side." He swallowed. Gabriel smirked. "Go."

Sam spread his wings mid-leap, and found that it wasn't all that different from when Michael had thrown him into flight, he fell a few feet, and his heart jumped into his throat, before the wind caught him and he fell into a glide. He didn't look down.

Sam beat his wings lightly, and glanced around to see where Dean was. He had ended up a few feet below Sam- likely because of his smaller wings- but he wasn't too far or anything. Sam sucked in a breath and tilted his wings softly, sloping them so he found himself next to Dean, who shot him a grin. He glanced up at the angels observing them, and felt a small swell in his chest, telling him to show off. He grinned and flipped into a roll, arching above Dean until he landed on his other side, and then moved so his wing bumped Dean, sending him into a brief fumble. Dean glared, though there was no heat behind it, "oh it's on."

Sam's eyes widened and he banked as quickly as he could, thankful for the headstart as he took off as fast as he could. Dean seemed to be faster, because he was gaining on Sam with ease. He yelped when Dean nearly caught his foot, and arched, tucking his wings in as he began to hurl for earth, Dean following after only a moment's hesitation. The wind stung harshly at his eyes, and it was hard to breathe, but he couldn't bring himself to care much as he cried out with exhilaration, euphoria exploding in his veins. He felt like he could do anything, adrenaline practically smothered his blood with the amount of it running through his veins. It was one thing to skydive, but this was even better. His heart felt light in his chest, pounding loudly as he slowly drew closer to the ground.

He pulled up, and found himself face-to-face with a forest - a test they wanted, he'd show them what he was made of. Sam pulled himself faster, and began to dodge and weave between the trees, left, right, left, left, right. He found he hadn't a care in the world as he twisted around another towering oak, watching the way the sunlight flitted through the leaves above and warmed his back softly. Dean was behind him, whooping with joy as well, matching Sam's movements more easily than Sam himself, his smaller wings allowing for better turns and maneuvers.

The forest ended rather abruptly, leaving Sam speeding towards a wall of solid, cracked stone. His heart dropped, and he had only a split second to think of what to do. He was too close at the moment to just stop, which only left one option left. He sped up, then, inches from the wall he arched backwards, flipping back onto his front and starting back towards the others. His heart still echoed loudly in his ears, and he was glad to see that Dean had managed to stop in time, and was now following him back.

Their pace was more measured this time as they started back.

Sam landed easily, compensating for the shockwave with a few, long strides. Everyone smiled, clapping at his landing, and he found himself snorting, Dean right behind him in his faintly incredulous thoughts. A hand landed on his shoulder- he didn't bother to find out whose- and then they were back in the living room, like none of it had ever happened in the first place.

He stretched, yawning briefly as he started for upstairs. Perhaps he'd take a nap, it'd been a long day thus far…

* * *

**H**e'd gotten a few hours in, before Dean had barged insistently into his room to drop a letter on his chest, claiming he'd received it from an owl, which was now pecking roughly at his window.

Sam groaned, sleep-addled mind rushing to keep up as he sat up in bed, looking down at the letter with a furrowed brow. It bore a wax sigil that Sam's still-fuzzy vision couldn't quite make out in the darkness of his room, and written in green, spidery ink was an address:

Mr. S Winchester,

Middle room, right side,

221B Baker Street

He blinked, and turned to look up at Dean, who was reading his own letter with a frown. He sighed and broke the sigil, deciding to take a look.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Winchester,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Brow furrowed, he flipped to the second page. A magic school? It seemed that the whole 'memory thing' Chuck mentioned had kicked in, because he knew that it sounded familiar, but couldn't quite remember what this was about. He'd read it in a book, and that's all he could muster from his memories.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic

by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory

by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration

by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions

by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

What…? He glanced at Dean, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow, as if he expected Sam to know what they were to do.

"What?" He asked, a bit defensively.

"You're the one who read the books!" Dean held up his hands, then set his letter on the dresser, which was just behind him.

"Yeah," Sam snarked, "and I can't remember a damn thing about them!" He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "why don't I write a letter back, then?" He asked, then stood. He scoured his room for a moment, finding a pack of paper and a pen in one of his desk drawers. It wasn't ideal, but it would work well enough for a brief letter. As for the owl, however, Dean ended up opening the window to coo at the damn bird.

He sighed and scratched out a response as neat as he could.

Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,

I apologize for taking up your time, but I don't really understand what this is. Would it be possible to receive a more in-depth explanation on what this school teaches, and what it requires? I have a few questions if you don't mind.

First, What exactly does your school teach? What classes does Hogwarts offer, and how in-depth are they? Where exactly is this school, and how far is it? Would we have to be driven, would we be picked up, or is it like a boarding school? And finally, where are we to get all of the supplies you mentioned? Is there a magic shop?

Thank you for listening so patiently to my worries.

Sincerely,

Sam and Dean

Winchester

He'd had Dean sign his own name, and then carefully tied the letter back to the owl's leg, and that action seemed to be what he was waiting for, because he nipped Sam's finger impatiently and then flew off with a hoot.

"Strange," Dean noted behind him, and Sam could only hum in response.

* * *

**D**eputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall sat at her desk, signing letters, as was a common occurrence for herself. She blinked, glancing up as an owl landed on her desk, clearly one of the schools, and an irritable one, too, as he didn't seem to have gotten a treat. Probably a muggleborn, then, all purebloods and most half-bloods would give the poor creatures something. Owls landing on her desk was not unusual around this time of year, mostly it was muggleborn parents who sent them, wondering if Hogwarts was little more than a practical joke.

Sensing the owls growing impatience, she set down her quill, and began to untie the letter with familiar ease.

She sat back when finished reading, and thought for a moment. Let it never be said that Minerva McGonagall had no sense of humour- despite how little she showed it- because her first thought was: thank god, a student with legible printing. Her second thought was on the last name, Winchester. She had been informed that she would be gaining a group of students from America, whose father had wanted them to attend before he passed away. They were all emancipated minors, and were supposedly living on their own in a secluded house. Suddenly, the screech of another owl sounded, and then she had a whole parliament of them crowding her desk with loud hoots. She took their letters as well, and began to read.

Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,

I must admit that I am curious about this, "Hogwarts", and I have some questions. First, what would we learn there? Second, how would we get our books and such? I do have many more questions, though I would prefer to confirm this is not a practical joke before I bother you with the rest of them. If you don't mind such correspondence, would you perhaps send me a form of proof at the legitimacy of your claims?

Michael Kearney and Lucifer Morningstar

Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,

Please forgive my rudeness, but is this a prank? Because if so I have better things to do with my time than respond to a practical jokes (though I do love a good joke, I just have better things to do.) I will need proof if you are telling the truth, you understand, I cannot simply drop everything because someone I don't know sent me a letter saying that a magic school existed and that I was invited to attend. I'm sure that if this is true, my other companions will have gotten the letter, so I guess I'll leave the questions to them.

Sincerely,

Gabriel Laufeyson

Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,

My name is Castiel Novak, and I must ask if you are "messing with me". I have no reason to believe you, and Dean explained that pranksters love a reaction from their victims, so this might be fueling your fun, but, is Hogwarts real? I mean, I imagine so, I know magic is real, but a magic school? It seems odd to me. Where is it and how will we get there? How are we to get our things? Thank you.

Castiel Novak

That was just odd, why had they all sent different letters? Only Sam and Dean, Michael and Lucifer had shared letters, so, what…? She hummed curiously and began to pen a response. She figured that she would answer Sam and Dean's letter as they had the most questions.

Dear Mr. Winchesters,

Your inquiries are all welcome, and you are not wasting my time. Please share this response with the rest of your brothers, as I would much prefer not to answer each letter. I will be glad to answer all your questions. However, since you are to be a transfer student, I believe it would be best to most of your inquiries in person, is there a way that we could set up a time to meet? I would be happy to travel to America. Until then, I will do my best to answer your questions here.

Hogwarts is the same wonderful school that your father wanted you to attend. Hogwarts teaches all different branches of magic, and it offers an array of different classes for each. All are in-depth, with the finest professors available. Hogwarts is located in Scotland, and we can arrange transportation for your arrival. The supplies mentioned earlier can be found in a Wizarding shopping plaza, which will be shown to you upon your arrival through a trusted guide.

Thank you, I await your reply and hope we can set up a time to meet.

Sincerely,

Deputy Headmistress

Minerva McGonagall

She leaned back in her seat, curiosity piqued by her newest, odd students. Between Harry Potter and the transfer students this was bound to be an eventful year. She let out a breath of air. Perhaps she should retire early…?


	4. I'm too Sober for this Conversation

**Okay, I actually debated posting this one, but it's late and you only live once, so here, I guess.**

**For anyone who might think that I have been focusing a lot on Sam and Michael's relationship, you're about to find out why.**

**The scene was too perfect for me not to do it, but don't worry, this **_**will **_**be a slow fic. I'm sorry this is so short, but two chapters in one night is a reasonable enough excuse in my opinion. I'm too damn excited about the next chapter, so don't be surprised if it's three in one day. No promises though. It's already past midnight here (time is irrelevant since I'm a night owl, I just meant that it won't technically be all in one day.)**

**I can't just let my characters be happy for more than five minutes, can I? I lasted three chapters, but that's as far as I'll get probably ever. I'm just an angst writer at heart. Sorry.**

* * *

**G**abriel was a surprisingly good cook, Sam couldn't help but notice as he shovelled another spoonful of the delightfully creamy soup into his mouth. They were all sat around the dining table to eat supper, each holding their own respective place. He was directly across from Michael, with both at the heads of the table. Lucifer was just to Michael's right, with Gabriel next to him. Castiel was sitting on Michael's left, and Dean had given up his position at the head in favour of sitting next to Cas, where they chatted briefly between bites. Sam didn't know who started it, but suddenly a chorus of 'thank yous' drifted from around the table, each passing Gabriel a faint smile.

It was sort of… domestic…

He liked it.

The silence was broken by an insistent hoot, and a borage of taps on the glass. Castiel stood, moving around the table to let the owl in. He untied the letter, and then offered him a bit of soup-covered bacon from his owl bowl. He gulped it back with ease and nibbled softly at Castiel's finger, with the male beginning to read aloud.

He grabbed a nearby pen from one of the drawers of the nearby table, and read his own reply as he wrote, making sure everyone was alright with his decided dates and times. They settled on a week from today, and Castiel sent the owl off with their letter, and a soft brush along its feathers.

Everything was peaceful, and Sam felt a flash of gratitude at Chuck for sending them all here together. He could see Gabriel and Dean kicking each other absently under the table while they chatted to their own respective conversation partners. Lucifer was talking about some sort of game down in the game room- which Sam still had yet to see- and Castiel was listening attentively as Dean talked about the Impala. They'd discovered her in the garage a few hours earlier, and everyone had heard Dean's excited shouting from all over the house. He gave a slight smile, examining the others at the table, and then his wandering eyes met Michael's.

They needed to talk, Sam could tell that much, and could see it in the man's eyes. Sam hadn't seen him in centuries, and Michael him in millennia. '_My room after dinner?' _The presence was soft, unassuming as it gently entered his mind. Michael left his message, and then retreated like he'd never been their in the first place. Sam's eyes met the table, and he forced himself to eat some more, memories flashing before his eyes.

* * *

"_**I**__t's coming." Michael drew Sam closer, they were huddled together against the cold, staring warily into the darkness. They knew running was inevitable, but it never stopped them from trying before- at least until recently… The cage was not made for Michael, Sam was excusable because he was mortal, but another archangel? It had made something, a sort of creature to hunt him down, to kill him. Lucifer was scary, but he was no threat to Michael, it was Sam he was after. _

_Lucifer had made them an offer, and Sam was beginning to wonder if Michael might take it… Michael had no domain here, but Lucifer did, he could call off the monster. For a price… Sam in exchange for Michael's safety - it was a fair price. Hell, he wondered if _he _might take it, if just to repay the archangel for everything he'd done._

"_We have to go," he drew Michael to his feet, forcing him to take a few steps. He stumbled weakly, holding onto Sam for support._

"_I-I can't… Sam, the cage has taken too much." He was referring to his energy, to his grace, to his essence. He didn't seem as ethereal as he once had, he'd lost his glow long ago, He didn't look like an angel anymore, he was almost as human as Sam was…_

_A growl sounded in the darkness and Sam wished he had the strength himself to just carry Michael, who's eyes had fluttered shut with exhaustion. He cursed, then shouted aloud to the monster. "Go! Leave us alone! Gen ge gen oi!" It was the only enochian he knew, 'do not do this,' Lucifer had taught it to him after he refused to stop repeating the words in english, albeit a bit less formally. It granted a reprieve - if he was lucky, of course._

_Then, the beast appeared. It looked sickly, emaciated, it's ribs were visible even through it's patched black fur, it's eyes were as white as the moon itself, and it drooled blood as it stepped closer on jerky legs. Sam swallowed his fear, he'd seen the thing before, and this was no different. He stood straighter and gathered his strength. "You leave us alone!" He spat, "Go!" He was feeling desperate now, helpless._

"_I can make him go away, Sammy." He swung around to face the devil, who was smirking. "All you have to do is say yes," his face split into a grin, as if it was humorous that he was now trying to coax him into saying the same phrase that had trapped him here for a different reason. He looked a little… deranged._

"_Yes." He spat, "then yes, just call it off!"_

_Lucifer snapped his fingers, and Sam turned to watch as the thing faded into mist._

"_Sam, no." Michael groaned, his eyes opening a crack. He seemed to summon strength from nowhere, as he always did when they got far enough from the monster, and straightened himself, though he still held Sam for support. "I want a new deal, Lucifer, no - as your brother I demand one!" His gaze was hard, cold as he glared up at his younger sibling._

_The devil tutted, "see, that's your problem, Michael. You've always been the entitled one."_

"_And you're the arrogant one! Now take me instead and leave Sam alone! This is our fight, not his!" Lucifer blinked, then considered him for a moment._

"_No!" Sam protested at the same time Lucifer agreed._

"_Alright. Come here then." He grabbed Michael before Sam had the chance to stop him, and then they disappeared._

_Alone for centuries Sam remained, listening to the screams of Michael, unable to drown them out, no matter how much he screamed himself._

* * *

**H**e finished dinner quietly and cleaned his plate like he wasn't listening to another man scream bloody murder, like that man hadn't given himself up to be tortured in Sam's place.

He feigned tiredness and made his way to Michael's room, taking a soft breath before he pressed the door open. It looked just like his own room, but rather than soft grey-blue blankets, his were a deep, maroon red, and his bed was pushed right against the wall, leaving a big, empty space in the center of his room. He sighed softly, running a hand through his hair while he waited for Michael.

It only took a few minutes before the door opened again and the raven-haired male appeared. He looked unsurprised to see Sam waiting and made way for the dresser, where he pulled out- two bottles of whiskey…? He handed one off to Sam and- as if sensing his confusion- elaborated. "Magic, you can pull anything you want out of those drawers as long as it's within reason." He gave a wry smile, "seems Father agreed we needed alcohol for this conversation."

Sam had seen what had happened when they had tried to get Cas drunk in the past, so he had no qualms about topping off the glass Michael handed him, and knocking it back. The older angel raised an eyebrow and took a gulp.

Sam founding him pouring another glass as he spoke. "So…" He hated being the first one to speak, Michael was good at that, so hopefully he would get the hint with that prompt.

"What did you do? While I was… What did you do?" He asked, undoing the buttons around his wrist, and then moving to the ones on his neck, as if the room was suddenly too hot, his clothes too constricting.

Sam downed another glass at that question. "I listened." Michael paled at that, lowering his glass from his lips.

"What…?"

He gave a dry smile, void of any emotion, "I tried everything to stop it - I covered my ears, but that always stopped working after a few minutes; I tried to sing it away, those enochian songs you taught me to pass the time, and then… when that didn't work I screamed with you."

He downed his glass, his expression carefully closed off as he reached to pour another glass, and he knew that Michael wouldn't speak if he didn't say something. Sam caught his arm before he could stop himself, tone faintly pleading. "We need to talk about this, Michael. We can't just let it lie."

"I know," he agreed softly.

"I mean- you allowed yourself to be _tortured_ for me! We can't just _not _talk about this!"

"I know."

"It'll hurt, but this is something we have to do."

"I _know._" Michael set his glass down, and his now free hand came to rest on Sam's own, which he realized he had been tightening until the point where it was likely uncomfortable. He grimaced and released the other male, taking a step back from where he had moved forward, and felt himself sinking backwards into a comfortable chair. Magic, right.

Michael did the same, and then he seemingly gave up on glasses, because he grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took a swig, before offering it to Sam. He took it without protest, revelling in the burn that trailed down his throat. He still couldn't feel the telltale warmth of alcohol yet, but he figured that's probably why they were given two bottles - and why they could get more easily.

"Do you regret it?" Sam asked softly, his voice smaller than he'd of liked.

Michael hummed, swirling the whiskey in the bottle absently as he contemplated how to answer the question, how to tell Sam that he'd do it a hundred times over if it meant keeping him out of harm's way. "No." He said instead, looking up at Sam through his lashes. When he passed it back, Sam downed the whole bottle, because what the _fuck _he wanted to kiss him.

Michael raised an eyebrow, clearly too sober as well, because he opened the second bottle, and together they lost themselves in the whiskey.

* * *

**S**am didn't think he'd remember much in the morning, because they'd already downed eight bottles and were on their ninth. He was just glad he couldn't get alcohol poisoning, because he'd be dead by now. In fact, he'd be extra dead, since he'd already died before.

Yep, finally drunk enough for this damned conversation.

"Thanks, by the way," Sam slurred, "for the-the whole-" he made an unidentifiable motion with his hands, "-you know." Michael just raised the bottle and tipped it back.

"Always," he agreed, sounding faintly more sober than Sam was as he passed the bottle back.

Sam hummed and took a swig, "s-so glad I can't die from drinking too much." He admitted with a grin, passing the drink back to Michael, who raised an eyebrow.

"Enjoy it." He agreed readily, swiping away a strand of raven coloured hair that had come loose from where it had been done up carefully to avoid such a problem. Interesting, he had hair a bit on the longer side, something Sam would never have expected from the well put-together male. He didn't know why he was so hyper aware of Michael's actions, but he took careful note of how he looked with his guard down, completely relaxed and slightly disheveled. He played absently with a silver ring he wore on his finger, a cursive 'M' set purposely on his right hand so it couldn't be mistaken for any sort of wedding or engagement ring from afar.

They remained silent for a long moment before the archangel broke the silence. "There were lapses where he was gone, you know." His voice was soft, and it startled Sam from where he was tapping at the empty and mostly unused glass from earlier. "I thought he might be going after you. I heard you screaming sometimes."

Sam winced. "He-He didn't… Lucifer kept to his deal, I was screaming because I thought for a brief instant that maybe it had finally worked and that I had finally drowned you out with my own screams. I was so thankful for those moments… until this one time when I swore you were silent for centuries and I wondered if he had killed you. I stopped screaming after that so I could possibly hear if…"

Michael frowned, but nodded in understanding.

"I didn't try to escape, even when he left. At one point I heard you screaming, I-I," he became a little choked up, and Sam was surprised to see that there were tears in his eyes, "I finally tried to escape, he caught me, and then everything was so much worse. He'd play memories of torturing you, and sometimes I thought you were there with me, in just as much pain. Then I'd try to touch you, to reach out, and show you I was there. Something. I'd just go right through you."

Sam winced, but nodded, and then they fell back into a thick silence.

"I better go," Sam murmured after awhile, glancing up at the clock that had appeared, it was past three. He stood, stumbling to the door, with the angel right behind him. He opened the door and stepped into the hall, golden light spilled out with him, painting the cream walls a sharp shade of yellow. He sucked in a breath and turned back to Michael. He wanted to say something of comfort, to tell him he was sorry, or… something. Instead, however, the question he had been meaning to ask all night was spewed out.

"Why?" He paused for a second before elaborating when he noticed Michael's confused expression, "why did you give yourself up for me, I mean?"

Michael's eyes lit with understanding, and then he furrowed his brows, thinking for a long moment. Sam let him mull it over, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. Michael opened his mouth to speak, before an odd expression crossed his open face. Rather than speak, he acted.

He leaned forward, a gentle hand coming to rest on Sam's jaw. He moved so close that their breaths mingled, and then- when Sam didn't pull away, lips parted with curiosity and faint awe- he leaned forward and closed the gap between them, resting his lips on Sam's. He was warm, like the fire he held domain over rolled eternally beneath his skin, and it made him want more. Michael pulled away after only a second or two, so close that Sam could smell the whiskey on his breath, and make out the subtle flecks of white and gold in his azure coloured eyes.

Sam stood in the hall, feeling colder and lonelier than he ever had his entire life, taunted with the memories of warm lips on his, and a gentle hand on his jaw. Those gold letters in messy cursive following him all the way back to his room, which felt empty and soulless compared to Michael's.


	5. Lucifer and the Nest- Down Boy

**Okay holy crap guys this is almost 9000 words. My usual chapters are between 3000-5000 words, so I am **_**super **_**proud of this. It could be better but it's really late and I procrastinated all weekend on getting this done. I was like, 'okay, Abby, you have 4 days, you need to get at least one chapter up for **_**something, **_**and would you look at that, I wait until the fourth day to even start it. Okay, sorry. Anyways, just wanted to say I haven't abandoned this, but don't expect any updates until summer break, school is pretty stressful, and I also have a few personal problems going on in my life. Anyways, thank you all **_**so **_**much for reading, favouriting, following or even reviewing! You're all amazing and it makes me so happy every time I get the notification. So yeah, here's chapter five. Enjoy!**

* * *

"**T**oday we'll be talking about nests, a vital piece of our culture," Sam honestly wondered when he had gotten used to Gabriel's habit of emphasising his teaching with claps, and flipped open his notebook for cultures. He printed the date on the divider neatly and tapped the end of his pencil against the page, beside him, Dean gave Sam an annoyed look. He muttered something under his breath about 'college boy' and this 'not being school'. Sam rolled his eyes.

It had been a few days since what the household had dubbed the 'drinking incident' (and which Sam called the 'don't drink nine bottles of whiskey again'), and he had finally gotten rid of his hangover, and could begin training. He thought it was bullshit that angels had to deal with hangovers, honestly. It had spread very quickly around the house that the two had been drinking together, and he was just glad both Gabriel and Lucifer both agreed that: "Michael's too much of a goody-two-shoes to do anything overly crazy, so we know it isn't like you guys had sex or anything." Thank god for small mercies, otherwise the rumours would have been so much worse.

"I don't hear _you _saying anything noteworthy, Dean-o," Gabriel smirked, watching Den splutter for a moment before he straightened, and fell into 'teacher mode'.

"Anyways, every angel has a nest, though they aren't strictly necessary. Nests depend on the angel in questions preference, some prefer smaller nests and others larger. Some like flowers or plants for bedding, while some- like myself- prefer pelts or furs," his words followed Sam onto the page swiftly, lightly abbreviated, pace just slow enough that he could follow along with ease. "Nests are a bit like a birds on the outside, though they are fused together with grace instead of mud or other natural substances. They are generally made, but on occasion, angels have been known to move into abandoned nests, again, a bit like birds. They _were _based off of us, after all."

"After creating a nest the most important times are the first groom and the first molt. To set claim to and align your grace with a nest feathers are needed. You work them into the branches along the side, once a nest is claimed, no one but yourself can enter without your direct permission- well, there are exceptions, but we'll get to that in just a moment. Now, making a nest is pretty simple, you start with larger branches, using you grace to keep them in place, and then work in the smaller ones. Instinct pretty much drives it, you'll kind of make it to your preference whether you try or not, and you'll find yourself lining it without even thinking about it, really. Angels generally go through a few nests in their lifetime, they spend the first little while in the main nest- which is where Dad created fledglings- then they would be moved into an older angels nest for a few decades, where they would be raised, much like the foster system really. Then, they would be moved in with the rest of the fledglings, where they would grow up and go through their earlier schooling. Finally, once they'd gotten their adult flight permissions, they'd find a secluded spot and make or move into their first nest. Some never changed nests after that, though once entering a mating bond or a flock bond they would generally create a new nest together."

"Now, onto those exceptions that I mentioned. Grooming is generally done with a trusted angel, and once finished one would generally gift the other angel with one of their feathers. Once an angel receives a feather, it is considered an invitation, both to groom the gifters wings again, and to weave it into their nest. Using another angels feather in your nest is not to be taken lightly, it is never required or expected, just an invitation, as doing so means that they can enter your nest at any time, whether you are there or not. This can be dangerous if you aren't careful. Now, simple etiquette states that should you use the feather in your nest, it is only polite to give one in return, so there is that." He leaned back against the teaching desk he had conjured, quirking an eyebrow. He waited for Sam to catch up in his notes.

"Grooming now, come on, books away, practical lesson time," he grinned, extending his right wing and waiting for them do the same. His wings were messy and feathers askew, but it was nothing major or alarming. Sam couldn't help but notice as he set his books away, that Gabriel's wings were quite small and broad. They were shorter than even Dean's, he probably only had a wingspan of about twelve feet, and they were broad enough they hardly tapered at all, leaving them to rest around mid-thigh from the innermost secondaries to the final primary ending off his golden coloured wings. That, and of course that they glowed, and I mean they _really _glowed_, _much like Michael's, it appeared they were lit by constant sunlight rebounding off of every inch, every feather and line, much different than Sam's, Dean's and even Castiel's own wings, which only held a faint ethereal light. The wings of the archangels- except Lucifer, of course- looked almost like suns.

"Wings only need to be groomed or preened about once a week, but you can honestly do it whenever, just don't put it off too long. If you let them they can be bad enough to the point where they both cause physical pain and hinder flight, that's why it can get so bad for fallen angels, or those away from anyone who can fix their wings. You can use your grace to groom the places you can't reach, and I know some who can practically become a contortionist to reach the backs of their wings, but neither method is very fun or comfortable." He grinned, then held up his hand in demonstration. Gabriel held up his pointer and middle finger, then pressed his thumb a little more than half-way along them. "Your thumb helps keep position during grooming."

He started at the base of his wing and began moving along, tilting the feathered appendage to get different angles as he straightened feathers and removed damaged or loose ones, Sam could see his hands shaking slightly. "Set all throughout your wings are oil glands, you will get it on your hands, it's inevitable, just spread it over the feathers. It dries quickly, and makes your skin softer, so don't worry much about that, though I would recommend washing your hands after grooming someone else's wings, as you _will _smell like them, and I can tell you now you _are _going to get teased." He winked.

Sam rolled his eyes, but found himself copying the motion, the faintest touch to his wings caused him to shiver and almost got him to hum, it felt like sparks, and suddenly he understood the older males shaking hands. The oil was thick, and it did smell very much like him as he smeared it over his multi-coloured feathers, watching a light sheen appear. He hadn't paid much attention to it at first, but since becoming an angel his senses had heightened considerably, downstairs through layers of thick concrete and flooring he could clearly hear what was being said on the television, and could hear the drone of muttering outside from where he knew Cas was reading in the garden, muttering stringed words aloud on occasion. He could see from here the faintest of flecks on the walls, the slightest notches or deformities in paint and plaster, and could see the fecks of smoldering amber in Gabriel's golden coloured eyes. He could smell hints of flowers outside, or a flicker of sweat from where he knew Michael to be training.

They were situated in a room that appeared when they were in need of classes, just next to the small one-person sitting room in the living room, which only appeared when one needed peace and or quiet.

He finished the front of his wings easily, and turned to Dean, who was just getting to the end of his first wing- probably due to his obsessive grooming habits, Sam mused- and then turned to Gabriel. He had finished as well, having gotten a head start and had experience of eons on him. He had six wings, and yet they all looked immaculate, he had probably groomed the second and third pairs briefly before beginning the class. He shot Sam a smirk upon noticing his attention and re-furled his wings neatly, raising an eyebrow as if to say, "you wanna see more? Offer to preen them and we'll see." Sam rolled his eyes and turned to watch Dean. He was now just finishing up his final wing, brow furrowed in concentration.

He figured Gabriel must have found it far too amusing, because he did _not _show Sam and Dean how to work on each others wings at the same time, and instead watched as they fumbled to try and find a position. Eventually, they ended up sitting so they faced each other, and curling their opposite wings in front of them. They locked together so Dean's inner-feathers brushed against Sam's, leaving them exposed to the opposite person, who began to groom them.

Dean's feathers were stiffer than his own, less pliable as he combed through them. They were tougher, and slightly rough, matching his abrasive personality easily, with the undersides being soft like silk and smooth. He settled the feathers he pulled loose next to them, creating a pile of greys and silvers, much less organized than his wings, which followed a very simple blend from darkest, which ran along the arch of the wing at an almost black, soot colour, to the lightest, steel grey at the tips of his primaries and secondaries. Sam found that his own wings followed the same pattern, and wondered if they had similarly shaded wings because of their relation, as he knew Michael and Gabriel had the same pattern (completely solid with the tips a different colour or shade, Michael's being gold and Gabriel's being a softer yellow).

He finished up with Dean's wings, plucking loose a final, damaged feather to set down in the pile, and waited for Dean to finish his. They had both ended up sideways so the other could reach the base, which Sam found seemed to have the most oil available. They had swapped at one point, with each wing talking about twenty minutes each, forty in total, and leaving the whole lesson at just over an hour and a half.

* * *

**S**am practically stumbled from the lesson room, his wings were still feeling twitchy from the grooming, and he really wanted to try making a nest, they'd been in there for hours, and he was thankful to finally be free. He watched through the windows briefly as Dean approached Castiel, who was weeding the garden, and turned to cut through the training room for a faster route to the staircase.

He could hear Michael practicing, and just hoped he didn't get hit with something as he entered. He was in the center of the room, practicing with… a _flaming_… sword… _what…?_

He stopped to wave for a moment, before returning to his mock battle with an imaginary enemy, swiping his sword up high in a graceful arch before following through down low, keeping only a single hand on the sword, his other resting neatly behind his back pointedly as he dodged. Sam blinked, before deciding he really did not want to know, and entered the hallway, taking care not to get hit and set on fire. Didn't seem like a very fun experience.

He made his way up to his room, humming absently as he examined the available space. If he pushed his bed to the side he would have room to build a nest- if just to try it, even. He needn't keep it, Gabriel had said that they weren't a necessity. He rolled his shoulders, ignoring the way his wings spread partially at the motion and began to shove his bed. It had wheels, so it moved with little more than a squeak over the dark wooden floor. He pressed up into a corner so it was flush against the wall, and then stepped back to examine the new space he'd created in his room. There was more than enough room, so he stepped up to the window and pressed it open.

Curtains billowed inward, telling of the strong wind and reassuring him of his safety as he curled up on the sill, wings spreading wide, body angled forward so the tips of his primaries and secondaries just brushed the wall. The window ledges had all been extended outwards slightly further than necessary, which Sam assumed was for this exact reason. He lunged, catching air and pulling into a smooth glide towards the forest. His wings no longer shook with flight, they were steady and stronger, he was more comfortable, though certainly not at ease. He could trust his wings to keep him aloft, and to twirl and spin, but he wasn't yet accustomed to them enough that he was confident they could catch him. His first real practice had ended with him falling, and needing to be caught lest he crash through the trees. The air shifted beneath his wings, and he felt himself dropping lower to catch hold of a better air current, eyes scanning the forest below. He was looking for a fallen tree to gather branches from, but so far all he could see was miles of green, whether it be the trees or the revealed grass below. He reveled in his own shadow, watching it pass over the earth swiftly, smoothly, following and chasing him along, distorted by dips in branches and light. Humans had always dreamt of flight, so they had created planes for a taste of the sky, but this was real flight. He was free like a bird, he could go anywhere he pleased for as long as the wind gathered beneath his wings. He could move faster than any bird easily if he wanted, could fly so fast the world blurred together into a mess of bright colours, and he'd done it before, winding through that valley with Dean he had let go and allowed the wind to just carry him as it pleased, had sped through like it was nothing, and one day he would be able to move across the world in the blink of an eye.

Below him and to the right he spotted a fallen tree through the branches and leaves. Sam tilted his body almost sideways, banking until he was just above it and then pulled his wings tight against his back. He slid easily between the branches, hurtling for earth swiftly. His wings snapped out and he arched until his feet caught the floor, propelling him a few steps forward. He was getting better at landing still, at least he had not fallen since the first failed glide. He glanced around, startled when he noticed he was not alone in the small clearing. Lucifer sat on the fallen tree, back to Sam as he stared out into the forest. His wings were open, hanging low until they drooped to the floor, primaries coated faintly with dirt.

Sam blinked, taking a step forward, he watched as the males demeanor changed in an instant, his wings snapped back until they furled tightly to his back, and his shoulders straightened. He gave no other indication he'd even heard Sam's approach. Sam frowned, wondering first why he was so guarded so quickly, and then how he had not noticed Sam earlier. He had recognized the scent almost instantly, realizing just who was there with him before he even saw him, not to mention his landing had not exactly been silent. He approached quietly, taking care to make sure he made enough noise to be heard clearly, but to avoid any suspicion. He would pretend he had saw nothing, making the devil feel better was not his job, and pressuring him to talk fell under that. He would gather his branches and leave, though Sam knew sympathy and empathy did not quite work that way, and that if he was sucked in he was in, and there would be nothing he could do about it but listen and go with the flow.

"What are you doing out here?" He found himself speaking first, and cursed himself mentally. He would need to get his compassion under control, especially in a house with some people he _really _did not want to get along with.

Lucifer turned to face Sam, raising an eyebrow, "I'm slaughtering children - can't you tell? What are you doing out here?" Sam rolled his eyes, but couldn't keep himself but looking for any break in the man's mask, and hint that he was really upset like he had thought earlier.

"I'm making a nest. I figured I'd grab some branches off of a dead tree instead of a live one," he answered absently as he began picking his way through said branches, looking for one that he could use.

The other male hummed and swung around so he was watching, head in his hands to match his bored expression. He watched for a moment as Sam pretended to know what he was doing, before seemingly growing annoyed with the facade, "there, to your left. Use that for your bottom-most branch, then add the one next to it on top."

"Thank you," it was strained, though neither of them really expected otherwise, what with their track record of disastrous conversations and almost world-ending actions.

Lucifer gave a huff when Sam ran a hand over the bark, stalling. "Oh, just- Dad-dammit- here!" He leapt from the tree with ease and strode up to Sam, unflinching despite his feet being bare as he wandered over the rock-littered grass. He pressed a hand to the bark, just over Sam's and muttered a quiet phrase in enochian, "_**Niisa,**_" a loud crack splintered through the air, nearly startling Sam with it's intensity, and the thick branch clattered to the earth with a final note, a faint creak and a finished thump. "_**Ascha.**_" He whispered, before moving onto the next one. He trailed his way through until they stood among a field of branches, littered over the earth like solemn sacrifices to an unsympathetic god.

"Thanks," Sam uttered, before shuffling to bundle as many branches as he could into his arms. His chest felt hollow, but it wasn't painful or uncomfortable, it felt more like his entire being was in mourning, a soft honour for the fallen branches he pledged internally would be put to good use. He knew now, there would be no 'testing out' life with a nest. He had committed the moment those branches hit the earth, to do anything else with them would be a waste, a travesty against all his grace and being now stood for.

He hummed and spread his wings, before noticing in the corner of his eye that Lucifer looked faintly lost, like he wanted to say something but wouldn't. He paused, then turned, watching as that familiar, blank mask fell back into place before he could even look directly at the man. He shifted uncomfortably for a brief moment, before speaking up with a question that he was bound to regret. "Aren't you coming?"

He looked surprised, and Sam reveled in that for a moment, before he frowned slightly. "No. Michael and I had a fight earlier, I think if I went back there would probably some sort of altercation. Why?"

Sam shrugged, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. His skin prickled under the mans sharp gaze, and his cheeks reddened slightly, "Nothing I just- well, I've never exactly made a nest before, and…"

"...You figured I could show you?" Lucifer finished, smirking.

Sam just nodded.

"Sure-" Sam's eyes snapped up, flashing with surprise, "-on one condition." Lucifer finished, and Sam wilted slightly. Of course there would be a price.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Sammy-boy. The only price is that you let me groom your wings." Sam blinked, slightly confused. It was such an… odd request, he could ask anything, hell he could even ask Sam to groom _his _wings, which might have made a bit more sense, but…

"Okay, just no funny business," the devil held up his hands in mock surrender, smirking.

"Come on, Sam, me? Funny business?" Sam snorted and spread his wings. Now to try and get out of the clearing. He still could not take off from a standing position, and there was not enough room to get a running start in this place.

Lucifer- noticing his dilemma- snorted. Sam moved to speak, when suddenly arms curled under his own, and he was lifted into the sky, his wingtips just barely brushing the tangle of leaves and branches as he was jerked up and through the gap in the treeline, and then tossed into open air. Instinct was the only thing that saved him as he flailed until he managed to force his body horizontal, and then his wings caught air. He turned to glare at the smirking devil.

"Give me a little warning next time!" Lucifer threw back his head and laughed, not his usual chuckle or hollow, intimidating laugh, this one was real. Sam felt himself smile, and shifted into a glide, banking so he could circle the devil. He wasn't exactly very good at hovering yet, so this was the best he could do.

Lucifer watched him for a moment, before making a gesture with his hands, and the rest of the branches they hadn't managed to force into Sam's arms leapt into his, leaving the field bland. Sam adjusted his own cargo, and then started towards the house, slowed down exponentially by the drag he was creating. Lucifer just floated quietly above him, blocking out the sun with his massive shadow, created by six wings nearly as large as Sam's were.

Sam couldn't help but notice how uncomfortably odd this was, he was about to build a nest with the devil, and then Lucifer would groom his wings afterward. He was supposed to hate him, or at the very least avoid him, this man had tortured him for literal eons in the cage, and yet he could feel a sense of kinship buzzing beneath his skin, born of him being Lucifer's true vessel, and now him being an angel. He couldn't bring himself to hate the man, and it seemed everyone else was avoiding him. Sam had always been a kind person… He wouldn't forgive Lucifer, not like that, but he could- at the very least- be civil with him, despite all that he had done.

Sam startled when he noticed the house break into view, and sped up, tucking his wings in and diving through his still-open window. He flared them out last minute, pulling himself upright and allowing his legs to hit the floor with a light thump. Behind him, the only indication that Lucifer had landed was the sound of feathers. Sam furled his wings, and turned to face the prince of darkness, setting down his branches. "Okay, where do we start?"

"First, we need to strip the branches, take off any smaller sticks and twigs, those will come in handy for later." He settled down and grabbed a large branch, gesturing for Sam to do the same. "I want you to draw out your grace, and picture it surrounding your hand, then form it into a blade, and use that." Purple molded around his hand until it created a barrier, and then a blade. He drew his hand back to his chest, building power, and then as fast as lightning, he slid his hand through the branches like butter, watching as sticks and branches fell away like nothing. He glanced up to smile at Sam, who was doing his best to copy him, and then continued.

Sam couldn't help but notice how odd it felt as he stripped branch after branch, each time created an almost-painful twinge in his grace, and the feeling of his hand sliding through was like a sort of pressure, but yet not.

It took about an hour, but they eventually managed to strip each of the branches, and set all of the sticks and twigs aside into a separate pile, now came the time to actually build the nest.

Lucifer grabbed the largest branch and hauled it into the center of the room, gesturing for Sam to do the same with the second largest. "Now, for this part I can't help, or it might have a hard time accepting your grace without waiting a few centuries for mine to fade. I want you to grab hold of either end, use your wings if you have to, and then you will say "**Zacar aziazor ol,**" and then bend it into a u-shape. When you are done, say "**Ascha conisbra,**" and then step away."

Sam frowned for a moment as the words shifted in his head, and then began to make sense, "move… like... this…? And, good... work?" He asked, watching a flicker of surprise pass over the archangel's face.

"You can understand enochian." It wasn't a question.

"I guess so…" Sam frowned, "I didn't understand when you spoke it earlier, and this time it was kind of jumbled, but it seems like it might be getting a little bit easier to understand or translate or… whatever."

"Ah," he nodded, as if it all suddenly made sense, "looks like Dad programmed enochian into your brain, it just needs to practice processing a bit, then you should be able to understand it as easy as you do English." Sam felt better after his explanation, and reached over to grab an end of the branch. He didn't have enough in him to reach the other side, so he extended his wing, and positioned it so it could push the branch up and into shape.

He took a deep breath, honestly expecting to mess up the words, but they flowed from his mouth like silk, as easy as breathing, "**Zacar aziazor ol,**" The branch gave a great creak as he began to push, and then suddenly, like the barriers dropped, the wood gave way and became pliable beneath his fingers. He felt it in his chest, a light tingle that shot through both his grace and his heart when the branch was just right. It was wide, with the sides not too high, and then the words fell from his lips before he could even think about where he had set and adjusted them. "**Ascha conisbra.**" The branch remained in place as he stepped away, and seemed to almost glow a little at the simple praise

"Nice, now for the next one," he handed Sam the next branch, watching him repeat the movement, and then again, continuing until they had a good, set base. It was a bit different from how birds did it, but then their nests had to be much larger than a birds, and required a bit more planning in regards to where and how everything actually went.

"Great, now we just twine the other sticks in, and fuse them with grace. For this, you don't have to say anything, just draw the grace into your hand and tell it what you want, basically. Come on, I'll twine the sticks, you fuse them." For the next three hours they worked together in harmony, Lucifer would fix the branches into place, and Sam would keep them there, they continued this until they actually had a nest. It looked like birds nest, it was wide, with plenty of space, and definitely looked more comfortable than it probably was in actuality.

"Thanks," Sam turned to smile at the archangel, who was watching him curiously, "so, what next? Gabriel said something earlier about lining it with pelts or plants or something."

He smiled, "it depends on you, do you feel any urge to go pick flowers right now?" Sam furrowed his brows, and shook his head. "What about hunting?"

He thought for a moment, "well… now that you mention it, I kinda do wanna head hunting, but like, for a deer or something…" He grinned.

"Really? I kind of expected that you would prefer moss or something," Sam glared playfully, before stepping out onto the ledge of his window once more. He half-spread his wings to get a feel for the wind- which was quite decent- and shuffled himself until he knew he wouldn't hit the wall by accident when he pushed off. "What, you're just gonna leave me alone, in your _room_?" He practically purred, his tone was smug, and slightly sultry.

"Trust me, if we were going where your mind is, I wouldn't be leaving you alone," Sam muttered before he could stop himself, and then nearly jumped out without spreading his wings to escape from the mess he had just created.

"Oh?" The devil sounded slightly surprised, and then his entire back felt like ice, and he could tell the man was right behind him, even without the soft breath that spread goosebumps and chills over his neck, and scattered bits of frost on his shirt. "Where's my mind going, Sam? Won't you describe it to me?"

Sam did the only thing he could think of.

"Down boy," then, to avoid the fallout he leapt way instantly, allowing himself a head start from the man frozen behind him in shock. His wings caught air and sent him soaring towards the woods. He heard a laugh, loud and carefree, and then the sound of nearly silent wingbeats drifting toward him. Sam cast a glance over his shoulder and sped up, straining at his wings to get further from the approaching male. He too found himself laughing at the absurdity of it, he'd just called the devil off him like an overeager dog, and now he was being chased through the open skies playfully for his comment.

Sam tossed an arm back, letting free a jet of water, not bothering to check if it hit its mark before trying again with a second, and then third and fourth wave. "How about a cold shower?" He laughed, calling loudly behind him.

"The water's warm!" Lucifer called from behind him, and then there was sputtering as he was hit once more, "nevermind!"

Sam snickered, but before he could even open his mouth to retort, a heavy weight crashed into him from above, and then together they were falling.

Lucifer was above him, arms around his own tightly as they hurled for the earth. He was smirking, and clearly soaked, water dripped down his tan skin, and fell between him until Sam felt himself join the other man's waterlogged state. "Who's down now?" He asked cheesily, using his wings to buffet Sam's away from where they were trying to catch himself. He was upside down, so it isn't like it would have worked anyways, but instinct is instinct, and suppressing it was annoying.

"Oh haha," Sam rolled his eyes sarcastically, "now let me up, will you? It's uncomfortable upside down like this." Lucifer rolled his eyes back, but nodded, and began to oblige.

The devil's eyes widened, and then his ink coloured wings snapped out as fast as lightning, the wind jerking them back sharply in what must certainly have been a painful maneuver. Sam winced, then whipped his head around to see exactly _why _Lucifer had done that. Closing in on them a pack of hungry wolves was the treeline, sharp green arching up towards them like thousands of painful promises, he knew they would feel like they had landed on the swords of the worlds armies if they crashed into them.

Then- naturally- they did crash.

Sam hit first, and it felt like he'd just been hit by a truck as he fell through it, and onto the next, and the next. It was like an entire group of people had surrounded him, and was hitting him with a collection of knotted whips- and not the good kind, unfortunately. It all ended when he fell another thirty feet, and then hit the floor, Lucifer sprawled over him like an undignified, now-dry dog. Silence balanced precariously between them for a long moment, and then Sam groaned. Lucifer laughed.

He threw his head back, and laughed, and then Sam joined him, and together they snorted and giggled until they couldn't stop. Lucifer rolled off of him, finally, and their laughs subsided in tandem. This whole day had been a brand new experience, and Sam found that he quite liked it, despite how much his back ached at the moment, "Ow," he snickered, "of course you had to crash us,"

He snorted, "what, I didn't see you catching us either!"

"I was upside down, I physically _could not _catch us, unlike you, Mr. Archangel," Sam sat up, wincing as he did so. Yeah, his back would hate him for a week or so.

Lucifer sniffed, "well, I couldn't catch you, but I can do this-" he pressed a hand to Sam's back, and ice rushed through him, leaving a soothing cold behind, and banishing the pain from the small confines of his body.

"Thanks," Sam sighed, then he stood, offering his hand to the other man. He took it, and then they both glanced around the clearing together, as if searching for something to say in the world around them. "Usually hunting is quiet," Sam managed to catch a drift of the joke somewhere in the lack of noise and wildlife, then they both cracked up again.

"You sure?" Lucifer asked, smirking, "'cause _you, _Mr. Hunter are being quite loud right now." He mocked playfully.

Sam raised an eyebrow, then spoke in a whisper, "you're louder, Mr. Explosions-and-falling-from-the-sky,"

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, "explosions?"

Sam just raised his own right back, and then started into the woods, footsteps silent so as to not scare off any wildlife.

He knew it wasn't right, that this was _the_ devil Sam was laughing and joking with, but he couldn't help it. Maybe it was something to do with Sam being Lucifer's true vessel, but something inside him screamed to trust the man, no matter what he had done in the past, it yelled for him to have fun, and relax, that this was their vacation, their way of fixing themselves, and they were all there for the same reason. Recovery. They all had their own issues to deal with and work through, it's why they were even sent to this other world in the first place, to fix themselves and each other on their own time. They were sent here to live, and that meant relaxing, being happy, and letting go of the past, because none of it mattered anymore, it wasn't erased, it's not like it never happened, but they were meant to work past it, to work through it together. He wondered now if perhaps Chuck had a hand in this, and then figured he wouldn't put it passed him.

Together the two tread silently through the forest, which was slowly returning to life as they quieted, and the animals deemed it safe to return. Sam shifted his steps slightly to avoid a twig, and began scanning the forest with his enhanced eyesight, which- now that he was focusing on it- could see for ages easily. He heard a whisper of breath, not his own and not in line with Lucifer's rhythm, and perked up, listening intently. He turned his head towards the next one, and his eyes locked onto a doe, grazing peacefully in a nearby clearing. Lucifer seemed to have seen it before even him, because he was moving towards it already, head lowered and eyes glowing a sharp blood red. He glanced back at Sam, and made a motion for him to go around the other side of her. He nodded, and then started off, avoiding leaves and twigs that littered the forest floor between himself and his target.

He felt his instincts curl in his stomach, a primal force that drew him closer and closer easily. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out the sound of anything around him, it rose and fell in a messy rhythm like thunder. He felt like the eye of a storm, and the world around him was what he affected within. His eyesight sharpened, and he somehow managed to keep both Lucifer and the doe in sight as he crept around her flank, giving her a wide berth. His wings were arched above him in a half-spread, his body nearly folded in half to bring himself lower to the ground as he stepped closer and closer, until he stopped just before the treeline, watching both her and his companion like a hawk. Lucifer was matching his pose, though his wings were higher and slightly more intimidating in their endless darkness.

He didn't signal Sam, just leapt with an inhuman growl, and the deer turned- unexpectedly- to the right of them, completely avoiding where Sam was hiding, and away from Lucifer. Sam leapt into action and leapt out from behind his bush, trailing behind the doe with inhuman speed. He spread his wings further, allowing them to carry him forward in short intervals which sped up the process of the chase. He dodged around a tree, and then shot a killing blast of lightning. Time seemed to slow as his weapon hit its mark, and the female crashed to the forest floor, dead before she could even cry her death to the world in warning. Sam skidded to a halt beside her, Lucifer with him, and together they buried themselves in the feeling of mourning echoing in their chests.

Using their grace they skinned the deer, and then continued their hunting trip, ending off with a total of two deers, four rabbits and a squirrel, each of the carcasses were honoured and left strategically near the dens of predators who would gladly scavenge from the kills (although they did keep a single deer for themselves, which was set aside in a freezer with grace kept to preserve it for much longer than it would remain naturally).

Sam and Lucifer returned at dusk, and set to arranging the pelts along the bottom of the nest, using some flowers that Sam had gathered to twine between them, and then, it was finally finished.

Sam admired their handiwork appreciatively, the nest was large, and looked _very _comfortable. All he needed now was to add his feathers to truly make it his own. He slipped inside and gestured the devil in after him, he had promised that Lucifer could groom his wings, and now was the best time, especially considering their days adventures, which had mussed his wings from their earlier, neat arrangement.

They sat down across from each other, and sat for a minute before Sam spoke up, "would you like me to groom yours?" Lucifer looked almost… nervous… for a brief instant, before his mask slid back into place, leaving behind only his usual cocky smirk.

"If you wanted to touch me you could have just asked, Sammy," He smirked, and Sam rolled his eyes, face flickering in annoyance.

"I can see through that, you know, and don't call me Sammy," Sam decided it would be better to break it in one go, because he knew his heart would force him to feel continuously guilty until he figured out why Lucifer was so upset, and why he was so defensive about his wings.

"See through wh-"

"The facade, that cocky grin. I saw you earlier, I know you were upset, and I know for some reason you seem to really not want to talk about your wings," Sam elaborated, face softening as best he could. "I'm your true vessel, it's honestly not that hard for me to tell when something is bothering you, so come on, what's wrong?"

Lucifer frowned for a long moment, silent, before he wilted, and seemed to give in. "Exactly that, my wings are what's bothering me." He took a deep breath through his nose, and then exhaled through his mouth, eyes fluttering shut, as if to prepare him for the conversation ahead, to ground him. "Before the Fall I was the Morningstar, the most beautiful angel in creation, with wings like a piece of the dawn sky, and grace as bright as the sun itself. It isn't about vanity, what I used to look like, it's _me. _I miss being the Morningstar, the Prince of Heaven, and every damn day I'm reminded that I'm _not _him, I'm not that loved angel who everyone looked up to, who fledgelings loved to follow around, not anymore. I'm Satan, the Devil, the most hated being in Creation, the one who everyone looks down on, who everyone wants dead and wishes would not exist, they blame me for every single little problem they come across in life, they blame heinous crimes on me because I'm Lucifer, the devil. I hate him too, sometimes, but I can't just change back, I can't be him, not anymore, and I don't want to. I want to be liked for being me, not the Morningstar, and not hated because I'm the Devil. My wings are my biggest reminders, and I genuinely wish I could just cut them off, but they'd just come back, again and again."

When he finished he curled in on himself, glaring at any inky appendage with such hate it gave Sam pause. "They hurt," he whispered quietly, "they itch and burn constantly from the ash, and the feathers are so damaged that flying is a problem for me now. They hurt but I don't want anyone to touch them, to judge my wings and myself for what we've become. They're monstrosities, and I know it."

Sam frowned and shifted closer to rest a hand on his arm, from where it was drawn across his knees, which he'd pulled up to his chest. He waited for Lucifer to look into his eyes, so he could see the sincerity in them, and then he spoke, "I won't judge you," he murmured, "you know I won't. I'm just as damaged as you are, honestly, so how could I judge you? Let me help." Lucifer paused, he scanned Sam's eyes for a long while, before nodding, and extending a wing for Sam to preen.

Sam decided to start at the back, and shifted around until he had easy access to the base of Lucifer's wings, eyeing the damaged feathers with a wince. They were bad, and even worse up close, there were no feathers in line, and they were twisted every which way, though the damage was hidden by the dark colour unless you knew what you were looking for.

He reached out, nervous to touch them, he knew he needn't treat Lucifer like glass, he was an _Archangel _for God's sake, but his wings looked so _painful_…

The first touch stung his hand, his wings were even colder than he was, and it felt like he was touching straight ice, the smoothness of the feathers didn't help that notion either. He continued, though, powering on. His fingers glided easily through the first few feathers at the base, and then he reached the damaged feathers. He straightened them, but many were just too damaged to be salvaged, and he had to pluck them loose, wincing at Lucifer's each hiss. He smoothed along the base, until all the necessary feathers were pulled loose, and then he decided to go over it a second time to help soothe the sting he knew all too well from when your feathers needed to be pulled free forcefully and before they were ready.

It was then- between the males full-bodied-shudders- that he noticed it. _There_, a difference in colour between the section he'd groomed and the rest of Lucifer's wing, it was lighter, and it had a faint blue undertone. He furrowed his brows and leaned closer to get a better look. It wasn't just his imagination- this was reality. He glanced at his hands, taking in the ash that covered every inch of his palms. He was… he was stripping away the ash! Sam moved back to his starting point, and began to sift his fingers through the feathers repeatedly, watching as the black lifted, slowly revealing a deep navy blue.

"S-Sam… you can… you can move on n-n-ow," The man hinted, flexing his wings. Sam opened his mouth to tell the other male about his discovery, when he thought about it. He wanted to make sure that this wasn't just a fluke, that he really could get it all off before he got Lucifer's hopes up, so he would keep it a surprise, and this way he could make sure that this wasn't some sort of mistake. He moved on, though, doing as told and stripping away as much ash as he could, leaving behind a strip of navy blue within the night-coloured feathers.

The second row came away as royal purple, deep and beautiful as he trailed his fingers through, leaving newly-coloured feathers shiny with fresh wing oil that smelled heavily of pine and frost, reminding him of winter as he carried on, spirits growing with the hope that this might really be a miracle.

The third row faded from purple to red slowly, leaving feathers a mix of the two colours until the tips, which were as red as the dawn sky. The second wing began purple once more, and did an even more impressive display of the two colours blending together slowly until it bled free into the other colour, leaving behind an impressive array of pinkish, cranberry feathers, which were as soft as silk.

His hands were red and still stinging sharply by the third set of wings, which faded from a gorgeous red, to a middle-ground orange, and then finally to gold, like the top of the sun kissing the skyline. '_wings like a piece of the dawn sky,_' Sam recalled, and couldn't help but notice just how fitting it really was, his wings were beautiful, and they really did look like sunrises and sunsets all blended into one to create a stunning display, even more vibrant than the real life versions of them. Lighter flecks dotted the purple and blue sections, looking like fading stars in the last of the night sky. He shifted until he was facing Lucifer again, taking care to hide his ash-coated hands, and smiled. "Close your eyes and don't open them, I'll do the front now."

Lucifer looked slightly suspicious, though did as he was told, his already half-lidded eyes slipping shut.

Sam started on the innermost parts of his wings, and nearly had to hold the man down by the third run-through of each section with how much he was twitching and jerking. The inside of their wings were definitely more sensitive than the outside, and Sam found he quite enjoyed the reaction. The slight pants and rare groans which escaped before he could stop them were slightly erotic, and- while Sam would never take advantage of anyone in any situation- it was actually kind of… well, nice (at least that's the only way he could think of it without his cheeks burning in slight shame) to make someone so emotionless and guarded become so vulnerable and open, to make him lose control. He closed his eyes briefly and swallowed to keep his thoughts in check, before continuing.

When he finished, he sat back to admire his handiwork, and give Lucifer a second to recuperate before he revealed the bright colours that now replaced his formerly ink-coloured wings. The inside of his wings were lighter than the outside, and slightly warmer- though not enough that he could feel his hands.

"Why don't you take a look at your wings?" It sounded casual, as if he was just telling Lucifer to confirm that everything was to his satisfaction, but in reality Sam had to bite his lip to contain his excitement.

Lucifer sat up and stretched, wings following as he yawned, reminiscent of a cat in his demeanor as he cracked a sleepy eye open to examine Sam. "I'll do your wings as well, just give me a-" he stopped short, mouth agape as he stared wide-eyed at his wings, feathers raised in shock. "...What…?" He whipped his head around to stare at Sam, "you…? How?"

Sam shrugged sheepishly, "the ash came off on my hands," he held up the aforementioned appendages as proof, smiling, "I figured I'd surprise you."

He couldn't even speak, just stared, then began to splutter out a thank you.

"I-I don't even know what to say!" He grabbed Sam's hands and gathered them up in his own, dragging it to his chest where his heartbeat echoed smoothly beneath their hands with wide, sincere eyes, "thank you, Sam Winchester, from the bottom of my heart thank you. **Ol surezodasa phama elasa tofagilo elasa vorns unig.**"

The enochian took a second to register in his head, but after a moment he recognized a promise, a binding debt hidden in those words, and he swore internally never to misuse that pledge. 'I swear I will give you everything you ever require,' he had said, but angels do not use the word 'swear' lightly, this he knew instinctively, it thrummed in his grace like a warning. Swearing something in enochian binds you, and now Lucifer had to give him whatever he required. Sam could say he required the archangel's death, and he would have no choice but to obey. He could misuse this so easily, so quickly, perhaps without even meaning to, and yet Lucifer entrusted him with it. Perhaps one of the greatest gifts he could have received. "**Ol pelapeli a zomdv aisaro erm iaiadix,**" the words fell from Sam's mouth before he could stop them, 'I partake in your promise with honour.' It was the way angels accepted promises in enochian, an oath of their own promising they would not misuse their gift.

Lucifer smiled, then rested a hand on Sam's wing in a silent offer, raising an eyebrow. Sam nodded and adjusted his wing so he had access to the inner half of his feathers. He would have loved to just sit back while Lucifer groomed all of his wings, but it was already late, and he was beginning to grow tired.

Together they finished the job quickly, and Sam began to twine his feathers into the nest while Lucifer gathered his pile, and stepped out to watch the proceedings.

His nest looked much more personal with the bright red, cream and gold feathers scattered haphazardly along the wooden walls. He settled down when he'd finished, and watched with wide eyes as a bronze and white dome, glowing with the intensity of the sun formed above him. It was see-through, and he could see Lucifer watching from outside with a slight smile as the world around them grew warmer. He could see a light breeze whipping through beyond his nest, sending the devils hair every which way, and scattering a few papers he had left on his desk.

It didn't last long, less than a minute before dying away, leaving the air feeling all too silent without the former crackling of electricity from his grace. He breathed in the scent of ozone carefully, awed.

"Well," Lucifer piped up, breaking the silence between them easily, "I guess I'd better head back to my own nest now. Thank you Sam," his walls were down, eyes soft and smiling along with him, "here, take this." He held out a single, immaculate feather, a dark purple that faded to a cranberry red at the end, glowing a faint violet. Sam took the cold feather with a soft smile.

"Thanks," he remembered his class from earlier that day, and exactly what it meant. He reached around to look at his own wings, and selected a large unique feather, it began a vibrant, cherry red before melding into a soft cream, which then faded to a bright gold at the end. It was one of only a handful he could see that held all three colours from his wings. He handed it over with a smile, watching Lucifer's eyes widen.

"You know what this means, right?"

Sam nodded, smiling, "yeah, Gabriel covered it in today's lesson."

Lucifer smiled, "thanks, Sam," and then he was gone, vanishing into the hallway with a smile still on his face.

"No problem," Sam muttered back into the empty room, before turning to tuck the beautiful feather into the walls of his nest, and readied himself for his first night in his new nest.


	6. Nebula's and a World of Wonder

Sam found himself glancing up from his task when a knock sounded at his door. The Deputy Headmistress was set to arrive, but not for another hour or so- had she come early, and one of the others come to fetch him?

"Come in," he called curiously, before moving back to running a hand through his feathers. He knew it was unlikely that she was even able to see his wings, but he was tidying himself up anyways, and had begun to do so more out of habit than anything- and wasn't that curious, already he considered his wings part of routine. He was startled from his reverie by the door opening, which it did without so much as a creak, just a light clicking of the gold handle, and he didn't even need to look up to know who had just entered.

The room shifted a few degrees instantly, and the light scent of ozone and woodsmoke trailed through, exploring the small room curiously, certain to leave behind a scattering of itself that Sam would discover days later. He glanced up more out of politeness sake than anything, smiling at the man who stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"You can come in, you know," he teased lightly, and then gestured to the plenty of empty space around him in the nest, even tucking his free wing a little closer. He nodded and- with a moment's hesitation- of course- stepped inside, making himself comfortable across from Sam, who continued working.

After a long bout of silence, Michael spoke up, "do you remember anything that happened the other night?"

_A warm hand cradling his jaw, hot lips on his, dark eyes- _"No," he screwed his eyes shut to clear his mind, and continued, "not really, I mean, I remember what was said and everything, the words are there, but the rest is a blank."

"Good," Sam shot Michael a questioning glance, and he elaborated after an awkward shift, "that you remember what was said, I mean." Sam nodded, trying to avoid the images in his head. It had been a dream, he had stumbled back to his room and dreamt that before waking up to vomit, Michael didn't- and never would- think of him like that.

Awkward silence stretched between them for a long moment before Sam decided to change the topic. "So, the Deputy Headmistress thinks we're students, right?" Michael nodded, "so are we casting a glamour or something? I mean, we're supposed to be eleven…"

Michael furrowed his brows, "did Father not explain this to you?" When Sam shook his head, he elaborated, "to everyone but this household we look like children, to them we're only eleven, despite the fact we clearly are not to each other- does that make sense?" Sam made a noise of understanding in his throat and nodded.

"Yeah, that makes more sense. So, what do you think Hogwarts will be like?" Michael hummed, though his eyes were trained on Sam's hands, watching his fingers disappear into the shiny feathers with familiar ease.

"I think it'll be interesting - do you want help with that?" He glanced up to meet Sam's eyes briefly, then held out a hand in offering. Sam blinked.

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, smiling, "just give me a second. I can do yours as well, if you'd like?" Michael nodded, seeming suddenly less awkward than he had before, Sam wondered when his comfort had diminished like that- perhaps he had said something stupid while drunk? He honestly wouldn't put it passed himself, he didn't exactly have he best track record for statements, even when sober.

Sam finished up the inside of his feathers and scooted closer until their knees bumped, reveling in the instant wave of warmth that shot through his leg, even at such brief contact. They locked their opposite wings together, allowing their inner feathers to brush until Sam feared sparks going off. He gently began to comb through Michael's feathers, straightening the slightly curled ones as best he could. His wings were even hotter than he was, they felt like infernos, like magma rolling just beneath the thin confines of his flesh. It felt like holding your hand above a hot stove, just far enough it didn't burn, but still with significant risk if you moved even a little too close. The feathers were stiff and barely pliable beneath his fingertips, and now up close it looked as if the gold tips were moving, like flames flickering high in the night, reaching for the Heaven's before lowering. He had previously described them within his own mind as gold-dipped, but now he could tell that wasn't the case, the gold was flames, a threat and a warning all at once, _beware the flames of my host_, they seemed to say, _he is fire and he is light; and he will burn you like it is nothing._

Sam blinked to clear his thoughts, but it was as if the wings continued to whisper to him. He had experienced it Yesterday as well with Lucifer's wings, albeit not as strong. Once the ash had been cleared he had thought there might have been undistinguishable whispers in the back of his mind, but had chalked it up to his imagination- now, however, he wasn't so sure…

His hands smelled heavily of ozone and woodsmoke, though now he could detect a hint of pine and cinnamon, a familiar scent he had grown quite accustomed to. He wondered if the ash from Yesterday (which had faded magically after only a few moments) blocked the scent, because he hadn't smelled like Lucifer, even after grooming him. He recalled quickly what Gabriel had said about being teased, and made a mental note to wash his hands as soon as he was finished grooming Michael's wings.

His hands had begun to sting as they worked in companionable silence, but he found that he kind of liked the burn. It wasn't really painful, just the kind of uncomfortable warning ones body gave just before it would begin to hurt, like when holding their hand to a heater. It kind of prickled slightly. Instinct told him that Michael's wings would not burn him without good reason, despite what his logic said, so he didn't remove his hands.

He wondered why Michael would even let him touch his wings, they were so pure, and they certainly looked it. Sam had been tainted by the darkness long ago, probably why his wings were so dark, it wasn't right for him to-

"Do you hear the singing?" Sam was slightly startled by the question, mostly because he was indeed listening to the singing through his dark thoughts. It was faint, barely there, and he could just hear it over the gentle whispers in his mind, it was beautiful, a quiet humming just within range. He had not heard it before, but just as the whispers, he heard it clear as day while preening the archangel.

"Yeah, what is it?" He asked, trying to focus on it. Michael furrowed his brow and reached for Sam's hand, which he set against his heart, then, it grew louder. Thousands of voices twined together in perfect harmony, it sung of the sky and the stars, and images of the world flashed through his head like nothing he'd ever seen before. He saw towering oaks and gentle willows, great waves crashing against the shore and far down below where great creatures swam, he was looking out on a nebula, counting the light smattering of stars like flecks of ice in the coloured dust, then he was watching the birth of a star, eyes wide. Just as soon as the images appeared, they vanished, leaving his mind feeling empty and his ears ringing with the loss of the beautiful song. He blinked to clear his head slightly, and focused back on Michael, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. "That was… that was amazing…" Sam spoke, tone coloured with complete awe, "what was it?"

Michael's lips twitched, "_that_, was the song of the Host. Regular angels, they hear the harmony in the back of their minds at all times, but never as loud as I do, and they don't get the images with the song. That, Sam, is what I hear every day, every hour, every second. It's what I see when I'm not focused on reality. Every angel's grace sings, and every pitch is unique, I can hear it all, I can read someone's mood in the way their song changes. We all sing the same song, and yet every single one is still unique. When I look at you without focus I see nebula's and stardust, they make you up like they fill space. I see great meteors when I look at Gabriel, and sharp comets for Dean. Lucifer is a black hole, swirling with constant intensity and Castiel is a glowing moon. This is how I see the world, Sam."

Sam blinked in awe, speechless. He wondered why Michael would even bother sharing something like that with him, he was no one special, and yet he felt like he had just received the secrets of the Universe…

"Stop that," Michael was frowning. "Haven't you been listening, Samuel? You are made up of nebula's and stardust, not your grace, _you. _Your personality has remained pure and beautiful enough to create such an amazing occurrence, you hold such beauty, and yet-" he tilted his head, leaning closer to stare intensely into his eyes, "-you see none of it, nothing of what I see. You are not tarnished, Sam Winchester, your heart is pieced together with gold and you are beautiful." Sam was speechless, and- happy that his talk might have helped the fledgling- Michael smiled, and made to leave. He withdrew his hand from where he had been holding Sam's to his heart in order to hear the Host, and Sam noticed instantly that he had left something purposely in his hands.

"Don't forget what I said, Sam. Thank you for grooming my wings." Michael left, said wings fluttering behind him, and Sam brought his warm hand to his own chest. Inside was a single, snow-coloured feather with a tip of shifting gold.

Sam smiled.

* * *

Sam smoothed his shirt nervously, eyes fluttering about the- thankfully- clean living room. He'd just finished washing his hands a few minutes ago, clearing away Michael's scent so the other houses occupants wouldn't tease them even more than they already did with the whole drinking stint the other day. The professor was to be there in exactly ten minutes, though he had a sneaking suspicion that she would be early, and thus decided to wait by the door while everyone else finished getting ready. Dean had been up late with Cas, and had woken up only half an hour ago, meaning probably just finished getting dressed.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs, clear as day from even the living room, and then he was proven correct when Dean dashed into the bathroom, green toothbrush hanging from his mouth and steel-toed shoes still unlaced. Sam snickered.

He came out a minute later, marginally more composed than he had been, and then a knock sounded on the door. He had been correct, exactly five minutes to nine-thirty.

Sam waited for only a moment before he opened the door, revealing a stern-faced woman with long hair pulled into a neat bun. She was wearing a pointy hat and what could only be described as robes. Sam smiled, ignoring Dean calling for the others in the background and invited her inside.

Lucifer appeared from the kitchen with a polite smile, wings looking brighter than ever. "Tea?" He offered lightly.

"No, thank you," she settled down neatly into the chair, while Sam found Lucifer next to him on the couch. The others joined them after only a few seconds, filing in from other parts of the house with polite smiles. Gabriel settled next to Lucifer, and Dean next to Sam. Castiel took his place at Dean's side, and Michael on the opposite end of the couch. Introductions- naturally- was where they started.

"I'm Michael," the eldest leaned forward to shake her hand.

"I am Castiel." Castiel didn't bother smiling, and Sam found the resemblance between him and Michael was almost uncanny in that moment.

"Dean," his brother just grunted, still looking as if he expected this all to be some sort of sick joke.

"I'm Sam," he wondered if it was normal to stress about his handshake, especially as it continued even as the others introduced themselves.

Gabriel gave a playful smirk with his own, "the name's Gabriel, most call me Loki," everyone rolled their eyes, unsurprised, they'd been half-expecting him to say that. No, what was more interesting was the Deputy Headmistresses response, her eyes seemed to gleam for a moment, unnoticeable to any who weren't looking for it.

"And I'm Lucifer, though you probably guessed as much." The blonde on the end finished their side of the introductions, leaving only the professor.

"I'm the Deputy Headmistress, although most just call me Professor instead," Her lips twitched. "I believe that it would be beneficial for you to lead this discussion, I am mostly here to answer your questions and take you for your school supplies if you are interested in attending Hogwarts."

The group shared a glance, and then Sam spoke up, "Alright, Professor. How is this going to work exactly?"

She took a smell pen from her pocket and held it for the group to see. "This object has been turned into a Portkey, a form of transportation in the wizarding world. Portkey's will be provided for you to King's Cross, where you will take the Hogwarts express to the Hogsmeade platform with the rest of the students. There are two breaks throughout each school year for Christmas and Easter, in which you will be allowed to return home for a certain amount of time." She returned the pen to her pocket, watching as they nodded along, thinking.

"How long would this last, and would you be willing to explain the classes in more detail?" Castiel spoke up this time, tilting his head lightly in question.

She nodded and began to list out the classes, swift and almost automatic. Sam figured she must have done this a lot lately. "Each student generally attends for seven years, though there are some exceptions to that. We have a wide variety of different classes which all cover the essentials and even more of wizarding life, each with very well-informed professors. Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, History of Magic and astronomy are the core classes you would take should you attend, and all first years take flying. In the third year you must choose a minimum of two additional electives to take. Arithmancy, Muggle studies, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures are your options." Everyone nodded, content with the brief explanation.

"Is it safe?" Dean asked, everyone stared intently at her, silent enough you could hear a pin drop in the still room.

She nodded, though Sam could see interest spark in her gaze at the question, "I am confident in Hogwarts defenses. Now, that isn't to say that they are fool-proof, but we do our best to keep the students as safe as possible in whatever circumstance." Sam frowned, but nodded his understanding nonetheless.

"How many students, and what are the arrangements?" Lucifer spoke up this time, leaning his head on his hands in an almost bored motion. He noticed Gabriel eyeing Lucifer's wings with surprise and slight awe, then furrowed his brow and turned to see the others reactions. Dean wasn't even paying attention, but Castiel was examining them with a furrowed brow. Michael was taking them in with an unreadable expression. He stared for a moment, before his gaze flickered back to the professor. Sam found himself wondering if they had known about the ash, and Lucifer's trouble with it.

"There are about a thousand students this year, and there are four houses a student can be sorted into, which is based of your personality. Gryffindor, the brave and chivalrous, Hufflepuff the kind and loyal, Ravenclaw the wise and witty and Slytherin the cunning and ambitious." Sam noticed a hint of pride in her eyes when she mentioned Gryffindor, "students will stay in their house dorms with students of their year and gender, who will be somewhat like a family for the duration of your stay."

Gabriel leaned forward curiously, his eyes twinkled, unknowingly reminding the stern professor of a certain Headmaster, "what other things are there? Extracurricular, I mean."

"Quidditch is a Wizarding sport, although you have to be at least in second year to sign up for that. Hogsmeade is a nearby town within walking distance of the school, which you can head to on specified days to do whatever you wished in your third year. There are a few others, but I can't recall them off of the top of my head."

They nodded and exchanged glances once more.

"I apologize if this seems rude, Professor," Sam piped up when no other questions came forward, "but would you give us a moment to discuss this together in private?"

"Certainly," She agreed readily, and the others shuffled themselves into a makeshift huddle a few feet away.

"How are we expected to pay for all this?" Dean asked, green eyes narrowed in slight suspicion. His wings fluttered slightly, as if agreeing with his question.

"Father left us an account in the wizarding bank, Gringotts," Michael spoke up with their solution, "did he not mention this either?" Everyone else shook their heads, and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

"'S just because you're the oldest," Lucifer grumbled, turning away from Michael slightly to mutter at Sam, who tried to fight a smile at the archangel's pout.

"Alright," Sam tried to distract himself, "let's do this the easy way then, I suppose. All in favour of going?" Everyone raised their hands, settling that debate very quickly. Sam thought it would be wonderful to go to Hogwarts, a brand new experience, and something to do with himself, a way to spend his time instead of remaining in this house, which he knew would not go well. Everyone would begin to get antsy and fights would break out. None of them were made for a quiet lifestyle, and they needed something to busy themselves with, lest they begin a third apocalypse (well, third _[probably] _for Michael and Lucifer, fourth for Sam, Dean and Castiel) in their free time to stave boredom. "That's settled, then."

They filed into a line before the witch, who stood, preparing for their decision.

Michael announced it, smiling faintly. "Deputy Headmistress, we have agreed, we would like to finish our schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

* * *

It appeared that the aforementioned Portkey was for them, because it led to an 'apparition point' just outside of the Leaky Cauldron in London, rather than the Professors place of residence, or so she claimed, at least. Everyone crammed in on her orders, reaching out to touch a part of the pen in one way or another, squishing in so close that some had to extend their wings just to fit. He wondered why the professor seemed amused at their 'human' Tetris skills, at least they hadn't started fighting.

"Everyone ready?" She waited for the chorus of receiving nods, before straightening her back. "Lemon drops."

Then came the worst experience Sam had ever had, and that included being tortured by the devil himself. It felt like someone had grabbed his arm and yanked him through a straw. His head spun, and he thought he was going to be sick. The world blended together around him, and then he was on the floor, staring up through squinted eyes at Gabriel, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow.

He groaned, shifting to his feet with a hand on his head. Dean had fallen as well, and seemed to be in an even worse state than Sam, having landed forwards rather than backwards.

Professor McGonagall seemed surprised, though not that they had fallen, rather, she looked shocked that the others _didn't _fall. She hid it well, only the slight widening of her eyes gave it away, and Sam figured it was normal to fall on their first time using a Portkey. "All right," she seemed to gather herself, gesturing to the worn down pub ahead of them, "this is the Leaky Cauldron. Come along now, and don't get lost." She started towards it, and Sam was surprised by the light glow that overtook the building, and the feeling of palpable energy in the air. It tingled, racing over his skin until his hair stood on end. It was a brief occurrence, before everything returned to normal, only the swirling green glow remained.

Sam leaned over to nudge Gabriel, as Castiel was busy muttering to Dean. "What's with the energy and glow?" He asked when he'd gotten the male's attention.

"Angel's can see high concentrations of energy and magic, as well as feel them. You're a lot more sensitive, and less blind to the world around you as one of us." He explained as they stepped through the door, the very same chill of power racing over his skin once more as they crossed the threshold.

The pub was warm, and he now understood the establishments name in full. In was dimly lit, and quite run down, with only a few occupants scattered about the tables. They ignored everyone, and everyone ignored them as they made their way straight to the back, and into a blocked alleyway.

They filed mindlessly after the professor, glancing around curiously. Sam wondered why they were in an empty alley, when the Deputy Headmistress spoke up.

"Watch closely, now, you'll need to memorize this order to get in." They all watched as she removed what looked to be a wand from her sleeve, and neatly tapped a pattern into the bricks, counting each one in turn to help them remember. Grinding echoed through the alley, the sound of rough stone against stone as the wall began to move and part, giving way to the bustle of a street. Sam had seen a lot in his life, but that was certainly up there.

From a young age his Father had preached magic and the supernatural as evil, much like Uther from the tv show Merlin, he compared, but this was just _wonderful. _

They stepped into the street, the stone slipping shut behind them as they glanced around in curiosity and veiled awe. Shops surrounded the alley, filled with wonders of the new world they had stumbled into, books, wands, potions, this was going to be a wonderful day.

They started through the crowd, and Sam was thankful that it was merely an illusion, rather than having him crammed into a childs body, as he could quite easily see over the crowd of people, catching sight of a rather impressive building not far from them. It was made of solid white stone and towered above all of the neighbouring buildings. It leaned to the side, and Sam could picture it swaying in the wind, though something told him that the building was far steadier than it looked. It had a faint swirl of colour around it, a sharp red that practically exuded danger and '_stay away, beware.'_

It wasn't a very difficult guess to figure out where exactly they were heading, as it made sense for the bank to be something that would draw new eyes to it like a moth to the flame. He was proven correct as they drew closer, the Professor clearly intent on getting to the building swiftly.

"**Hey, Sam,**" the words came out in enochian, but he heard them just as he would in English, it appeared Lucifer was correct, and his mind had caught up. Gabriel had spoke, he was just behind Sam, standing up on his tiptoes to whisper, despite the fact that no one else around them- apart from the other angels, of course- would even understand what he was saying. "**Can you understand me right now?**"

"**Yes, I can, why the secrecy?**" He found that his words came out in enochian, as if a switch had flipped at hearing the ancient language.

Sam could practically _feel _Gabriel grinning. "**Some magical creatures might be able to see our wings, just a quick warning. They should leave us be, our entire species kind of sends out a warning to anything with enough power to pick up on it, so basically anything that's a threat can tell that we're an even bigger threat.**" Sam blinked and straightened, wings pressing closer to his back, and he found himself glancing around warily for any stares they might have received. Everyone was pretty much ignoring them, though when they passed a window filled with creatures, many of them watched, but every single one of them refused to make eye contact. _We're a bigger threat, _Sam told himself.

Together they ascended steps of the same, bleached colouring the rest of the building had, and then approached a set of burnished bronze doors. Eyes like pools of darkness and teeth like razors stood a creature, guarding the bank. It sneered as they entered, and Sam felt a sharp, pointed glare on his wings, which inched slightly closer at the stare. He found himself in a shorter entrance hall, with neat script carved into imposing silver doors.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

It was actually quite threatening, and it gave him chills to read- what else could be living within the bank?

He shared a glance with Dean, who had the same, anxious expression on his face that Sam did, what exactly were they walking into?

The other angels of their group seemed to have no such worries, walking past the next set of creatures without even a hitch, though Sam felt his fingers twitching to reach for a gun that wasn't there any longer. They followed the Professor into a giant marble hall, gold and white pillars stretched across the domed ceiling in thin lines, the intricacy was comparable to that of a spiders web, and it made for a stunning display. The room was bright, illuminated by thousands of candles which made their way above long countertops bordering the whole room, only breaking for doors to branch off into separate rooms. Hundreds of those creatures were seated or bustling around the massive room, clearly the workers of the bank. They had a superior air about them, and sinister grins that promised blood and violence to any who dared wrong them.

Sam shivered when he felt the glares on his wings, threatening and aggressive. Gabriel had sad that most sensed the bigger threat and left them be, but what about when there were hundreds of them, and it was only a small party of angels who intruded? He heard a hiss nearby, more of a challenge than a warning, and then he watched Michael respond. He took the threat in stride, his massive wings extended, flooding the room with their imposing presence, and the feathers glimmered silver in the rooms lighting- which Sam found odd- and he growled right back, the noise low in his throat. It wasn't a threat, but a warning.

It worked like a chain reaction, like a switch had been flipped in his head once more, and his angel heritage had taken over. Lucifer went next, extending his wings up and out, creating a hiss of his own, barely audible to the human ear. Then came Gabriel, and that's when Sam realized the hierarchy in place. Castiel followed, then Dean, and finally Sam. They used their wings as a blockade, each hissing or growling respectively to create an almost harmony of noise, threatening and unheard to any but the creatures they were warning off.

The gnarled creatures continued to hiss, though the sound gained a defensive note this time.

They approached the nearest free teller- who did not seem happy to be dealing with them- and then they were being led through an unassuming door, and into a sort of cavern. They were ushered by the Deputy Headmistress into a rickety old cart, and their guide did not seem happy about being in such close proximity to divinity, much unlike the way humans would react.

"Goblins," a voice whispered to him, Castiel, who kept a wary eye on the proclaimed goblin. His tone held a note of distaste, though nothing worrying or concerning, "a bloodthirsty race of creatures, who care for nothing but their own greed." Sam nodded, taking the information in with narrowed eyes.

The cart lurched into motion, and then they were zooming through caverns and tunnels at speeds certainly too quick to be safe, though nowhere near as fast as his own top speed when flying. The cart whipped them about, and he once more compared it to a more grounded version of flying, also less safe- or, well... Safety in the air was dubious, sure you could fall thousands of miles towards earth, and possibly connect if you were unlucky, but at least you were relying on your own faith in yourself, and your own abilities, rather than a rusted old cart with a creature who would rather see you dead.

When the cart pulled itself roughly to a halt, Sam found himself stepping out as fast as possible, disconcerted by an odd creaking noise. They were standing before an impressive door of thick iron, and in the middle of it all, was the indent of a handprint.

The goblin turned, and handed him a blade. It was natural, he was the youngest as indicated earlier, this was a power move. Sam took the knife, glancing at it. He had dealt with enough rituals to know what was needed, and now that he was an angel the wound would just heal. He returned the blade, allowing the goblin a moment of satisfaction, before he reached into his back pocket and retracted his own blade. It glared as he stepped up to the door. He caught Professor McGonagall's look of disapproval, before he dragged the edge over his palm, and pressed his hand into the imprint, allowing blood and grace to seep into the barricade.

The door clicked, and then there was the sound of gears turning, and stone over stone before the door opened, revealing mountains of gold, silver and bronze. "There are 17 Sickles in a Galleon, which is the golden one, 29 Knuts in a Sickle, which is silver, and 493 Knuts to a Galleon, which is the bronze one." The Deputy Headmistress explained while Sam scanned the fortune, eyes widened a fraction with surprise and slight awe. The goblin handed each of them a pouch, explaining that it withdrew the necessary amount straight from their vault, and then Sam was pocketing a bit of emergency change, tucking it and his blade away safely.

It wasn't until they were out of Gringotts that the Professor stopped him, her mouth drawn into a tight line. "Mr. Winchester, why do you have a knife with you?" Her eyes were hard, and no one stepped in to help, leaving him on his own. They knew answering for him would only make it worse.

"We live alone, Ma'am," the slightly altered excuse from when he was younger slipped out automatically, "we have been for a while now, we all have blades to keep ourselves and each other safe, it's more to ward someone off than it is to actually fight with. Our father taught us how to use them not long before he passed, so it isn't as dangerous as it looks. We know what we're doing." She still looked disapproving, but even she couldn't argue with and take away a child's main defense, and just nodded.

"Alright, but you will _not _be bringing that to Hogwarts, and if I catch you with it there will be consequences." She cast a stern glare at each of them, and they all nodded their agreement, though he had a feeling she knew that they would bring them anyways (not that they could help it, but they would definitely be bringing a lot more than just their angel blades, which they could).

Next they entered a considerably smaller building, a shop called 'Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions', and Sam found himself glancing around in awe. It was filled with tons of robes and different wizarding dress- which he felt a small niggling in his mind telling him to learn all about- and zipping about the room were floating measuring tapes, threads and bits of fabrics.

"Hello there, Hogwarts for you, Dears?" The woman who spoke was a squat witch with short, white hair and a pair of glasses framing her blue eyes, she ushered the group onto short pedestals quickly. The measuring tape flitted about them, taking measurements swiftly.

They ended up being fitted for the traditional Hogwarts set, as well as a pair of dress robes each, which Sam found surprisingly comfortable despite his initial doubts. It felt sort of like wearing a dress, but the pants made it a lot more bearable than without, and soon enough they were being dragged along to the next shop, a store called Flourish and Blotts.

Sam felt at home surrounded by the towering stacks of books, each of which reached the ceiling, and were filled to the brim. The whole store was pleasantly warm, and smelled of leather-bound pages that reminded him a bit of his Stanford days. He only waited for the Professor to sigh and wave them off with a hint of a smile, before he was darting between the winding stacks to search for some books. It was glorious, hundreds of books on magic and spells- he worried he would spend half their fortune on just books. He grabbed anything that sounded interesting or challenging, and ended up with a wide collection, all on various subjects and topics. He reveled in McGonagall's slight smile when she noticed everything he had just picked out- a lot could be said about someone by what they read.

He wasn't surprised to see that Dean had chosen a ton of books on Defense Against the Dark Arts, as it sounded like something he would enjoy a lot. There was a big book on shields in there, and a few on hexes and jinxes. He even had one about the Wizarding sport, Quidditch. Michael came next, his book choice was similar to Dean's, with a lot on Defense, hexes or jinxes, although the main difference was one on etiquette, which Sam found himself nodding appreciatively at. Gabriel had collected some on- just like Michael and Dean- hexes, jinxes and curses, some prank books and one on Quidditch as well, though a different one than Dean. Lucifer approached the counter with some darker looking books, one on something called Animagi, some on curses, an etiquette book, an the rest on a wide variety of different magic branches. Castiel was the last to appear, he got one on etiquette like his brothers, a bunch on history, a big shield book to match with a few defensive magics, and finally a few on herbology. Overall, Sam wasn't overly surprised with any of their choice in books, though he found it almost… endearing, to see them bringing a pile of books they liked up to the counter.

They paid for the extra books as well as their school books with no trouble financially, leaving the owner looking quite pleased, and then they moved on. Next they bought their cauldrons and telescopes at a small, out of the way store, and then they were sure to pick up as much ingredients as they could (including a few rare and expensive ones) at the apothecaries. In total, it was a very successful haul, then, their wands.

Apparently Michael had received even more information over the rest of the group, which he shared with them in enochian as they walked. "**We are to get personalized wands using our own feathers so that it may draw upon our grace if needed. Has Father told you our story?**" He received a chorus of shaking heads and continued, "**Our Father was a sponsor of Hogwarts, and he attended it back in his day. He got sick with an incurable illness, and got us all emancipated before he died, with his last wish being that we attend Hogwarts despite living in America. He had donated a lot of money in the past, and so they made allowances for us so that we could attend. We are not related by blood, as he adopted us, only Sam and Dean are brothers as well as Lucifer and I, we are each twins. Our birthdays needed to be altered, as us angels do not have birthdays and yours needed to match up with the timeline. My birthday is January 23rd with Lucifer only a few hours later on the 24th. Gabriel was born on April 1st-**" The trickster gave a grin, "**-and Castiel was born on July 18th. Sam and Dean, you were both born on August 12th.**" Everyone nodded, and by the end of the explanation they had made it to Ollivanders.

"I'll leave you to fetch your wands, now, I have a quick errand to run, but I will be back soon." The Professor waited until they were inside before she left, making sure they each got where they needed to be and didn't run off to cause trouble alone in the alley. Sam was grateful that she was gone.

Boxes- presumably filled with wands- were stacked straight to the ceiling like the books in Flourish and Blotts had been, leaving only a small space for the man behind the counter to navigate. A dark haired boy stepped past them with a shy smile to head out, new wand in hand, leaving the angels alone with the worker.

Ollivander was a tall, gangly man with glazed silver eyes that nearly glowed in the dim lighting, he was watching them with a curious expression that flitted between their faces and their wings.

"We'd like six custom wands, please," Gabriel piped up, watching the man carefully.

He pursed his lips and nodded, stepping aside to let them through a gap in the counter. "Right this way."

Sam felt odd surrounded by so much magic at once, it almost tingled over his skin, like when ones foot fell asleep, albeit slightly less forceful and spanning his entire frame, and gold light from every angle drew his eyes. It was trippy, and he decided fairly quickly that he didn't much like this shop.

The angels were led into a small room, and Ollivander headed over to a shelf, where he gathered a bunch of wood pieces and set them out in a line on the center table, completely concentrated in his work. Next, he did the same with three, strange objects which Sam assumed were meant to be their wand cores. Once they were all in a neat line following an order only the shop owner seemed to know, he looked up with a satisfied expression, and pointed at Michael. "You, come. Hold your hand above the wood, and pick which one feels right to you. Do the same with the cores when you've finished that." Michael looked faintly wary- though Sam only noticed the subtle shift in his features with how long he'd spent around the archangel- and then stepped forward.

His hand drifted over the woods for a moment, a curious look crossed his face as if he was sensing something the others could not. He passed over the entire line once, and when he'd finished he reached out to grab a dark, almost black wood, which he examined with care.

"Blackthorn wood," Ollivander spoke up, giving Michael a curious look, "best suited to warriors, in my findings." Michael glanced up at him, though he did not seem surprised as he handed the wood back, which was instantly laid back in line.

The eldest of them next searched for a wand core, drawing his hand over the three materials with a frown. Once he'd done so for the third time, he drew away with nothing. "None of them, I don't feel a thing."

Ollivander frowned as well, but nodded nonetheless, "a tricky customer, I see…" he shifted back over the shelves, and then- careful to keep them separate from the first three cores- he began to set out variety of new ones, looking slightly reluctant to do so. Michael nodded when he'd finished, and eventually came away with a white, gold tinted feather, which he held up triumphantly.

"Thunderbird feather, how curious…" he glanced around, before gesturing Lucifer up to the table. "I never meant to use these cores, though I've always kept them around just in case." He appeared thoughtful, and so Lucifer sifted through while he was distracted. Lucifer ended up holding a darker wood up to the light, it was only a few shades dimmer than pine, and then he set to picking a core.

Like Michael, neither of the three original cores worked, and he eventually ended up hovering over a light, cream coloured horn, which looked quite sharp if Sam was honest with himself. "Hawthorn wood and a horn from the Horned Serpent, interesting." Gabriel stepped up, picking a light coloured wood from the batch, and then he gathered up a single, dark hair, which caused Ollivander to snap to attention. "Dogwood and Thestral Hair, what an odd combination…"

Castiel seemed completely composed as he approached the table, eyes instantly narrowing in on a certain wood, which no one was surprised to see him come up with in the end. Cedar, very clearly. Next, he gathered up a hair that the wandmaker identified as Kelpie, then it was Dean's turn. He looked excited, lips twitching as he grabbed a strip of Cypress wood, and then what was called Veela hair. Finally, it was Sam's turn.

He stepped up to the table, palms sweaty as he peered down at the woods. He copied the others movements, allowing his hand to drift over everything slowly. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and there was a light hum in the back of his mind, growing stronger and stronger the further down the line he moved. With the intensity of a clap of thunder, the sparks picked up, and he chose a dark, smooth, reddened wood from the pile. "Alder," but he wasn't listening, just allowing his grace to connect with and trace over the wood gently. He set it down eventually, and then moved on to cores. The three traditional ones had no affect on him either, but he was drawn instantly to a snow coloured spine in the next row, sharp enough to draw blood with even the lightest touch of his fingertips. "White River Monster Spine," Ollivander explained, and once more Sam was too entranced to really care.

When he finally managed to pull himself back, they each handed him one of their feathers with a stern look promising violence if any harm befell it. Sam personally chose a dark red feather that he thought complimented the alder quite well, and then they were off with the promise of wands in an hours time.

The Professor had just stepped into the shop when they appeared from the back, looking slightly surprised to see them back there. "We are to return in an hour," Michael explained, ignoring her skeptical look. Their final stop while they waited was a store called Eeylops Owl Emporium, where they would each get themselves a pet for Hogwarts.

Sam had always wanted a dog, his entire life, but they weren't permitted at Hogwarts, and it would be unfair for the poor thing to be left home alone even if they'd found a way to feed him while they were at Hogwarts. He would be all alone, and for a pack animal that would be horrible. He sighed and continued browsing, tracing through the dark room and glancing up at the many owls, which peered down at him curiously from their cages, they probably wondered why he had wings like them. None of the owls really clicked for him, he saw some that he liked, but none of them seemed overly interested in him either, and so he instead decided to find the others and see what they had got.

* * *

It happened the moment he saw her, a click in the back of his mind screaming that she would be his. Gabriel approached the barn owl, examining her while she did the same to him. She was tall and slender, with long graceful wings and subtle, intricate patterns. She watched him with dark eyes, a flicker of mischief hidden within. "Well hello there," he clicked his tongue, watching.

_Prove you're good enough for me, _The thought came unbidden to his mind, and she didn't need to speak for Gabriel to know exactly what she was telling him. He couldn't think of much in a dark room surrounded by owls, so he extended his wings, allowing her to examine the strong muscles and bright coloured feathers with a sharp gaze. She seemed to nod, then spread her own wings, allowing him to peek at the light under colour. He followed her lead and nodded himself, then reached up to unhook the cage. He wondered what he'd call her.

A certain name came to mind, and he wondered if it was egotistical to name her after himself, "alright, Loki, how do you like that?" She was pleased.

* * *

Castiel examined each of the owls with wide eyes, not many seemed to care much about them, and the rest were all _too_ interested in their wings as they passed. He had always gotten along well with birds when they had lived in the Garden, but these ones seemed less friendly for some reason. They weren't rude exactly, just a lot less eager to meet new people and be friends than they used to be.

He found himself stopping in his tracks, eyes locked onto a small, friendly looking owl. He was small, a tawny owl with a smattering of white feathers mixed in with the brown, his eyes were almost black, wide and bright. He gave a small coo, fluttering his wings when he noticed their gaze on him. Castiel felt no fear when he reached out a finger, which he had no problem allowing to pet him.

"Dean, can we keep him?" He didn't need to look to know that the Winchester was watching him with an indulging look.

"Sure, Cas, you wanna share him and split the fee?" He nodded, retracting his fingers so Dean could grab the cage, he smiled at Dean's gentle look to their newest pet. He wondered what Dean would think about the name Dust, for his dust-coloured feathers.

* * *

Naturally, both Michael and Lucifer had their eyes on the same owl, a pretty barred owl with white and brown dappled feathers, and wide, intelligent eyes.

"She's mine," Lucifer spoke, facing down his brother, "I was here first."

Michael raised an eyebrow, "I'm older, therefore she should be mine," they'd always gotten into the pettiest of arguments like this when they were younger, eventually those small disagreements had become big, and had spiralled.

"Oh that's rich, you always-"

"-Guys," Lucifer's rant was cut off by Sam, who had managed to find them first with all their arguing. "Don't fight like this, not here and not when you've been doing so well. Split her, like, the fee, not King Solomon style, you each buy food and take turns housing her in your rooms until Hogwarts." They shared a glance, and nodded after a moment.

"Yes, I suppose that is a better idea, thank you, Sam." Michael took on the ghost of a smile, and Sam echoed it. Something hot and angry spurred in Lucifer's mind, why did his brother always have to take everything from him? Sam was _his, _his vessel, _his._

They met up with the others by the counter, where they all bought their owls and proper care supplies, before they moved out into the alley.

The Professor took note of Sam's empty hands and smiled lightly, "perhaps we take you to another pet store, Sam? We still have a while yet, anyways" He nodded, glad she had suggested it, and they started for the next one, which wasn't all that far.

This shop was a lot brighter, and filled with cats, dogs, snakes, rats, you name it. Sam frowned and purposely moved away from the dogs, he'd be tempted if he stayed around them for too long. Instead, he found himself looking at cats.

Sam had never been a cat person, not really, but perhaps it would be good for him, cats were cuddly, and it might get him to sit down and relax more if he had someone to keep happy instead. Cats, toads and rats were the only thing other than owls on the approved list of pets for Hogwarts, he didn't really want a toad (no offence, really!) and he wouldn't know how to take care of a rat properly, leaving cat as- once more- the ideal option.

He stopped in front of a cage, something in the back of his mind just felt right as he peered in. Sleeping was a cat curled up in the back, though he (as the card below his cage said) cracked open a sleepy blue eye when he noticed Sam watching him. He yawned, then stepped into the light, sniffing curiously. He was young, supposedly only six months, and yet large for his age. The cat was a Siamese, a seal point, he noticed. He may not be a cat person, but Sam had once done a school project on Thailand, where the Siamese originated, and had learned about them quite a deal. He'd gotten an 'A' for his extensive research. Sam felt himself reaching out, allowing the kitten to sniff his hand curiously, and he fell in love when the tom purred and butted a hand against him.

He thought he'd call him Salem as he brought him up to the counter and paid. It was definitely more expensive than the owls had been, but it was worth it.

The group got into a chat about their new pets on the way back to Ollivanders, speaking about names. Gabriel was the one to start it.

"I called her Loki, she approved," he grinned, and everyone rolled their eyes playfully.

"Isn't that a little egotistical?" Sam asked, causing the trickster to laugh.

"Come on, Sam, me?" He asked, throwing on his best 'not-so-innocent, innocent' look and fluttering his eyes at the brunette. The group laughed, and Sam was relieved that they were all getting along so well for once.

"We're calling this little guy Dust," Castiel piped up, giving the tawny owl a gentle scratch.

"Cas picked the name," Dean clarified, and the others laughed, ignoring the angels slight pout.

"Yes, good thing too, you'd have probably called him 'Bear' or 'Killer'," The group broke into giggles when Michael spoke up, raising an eyebrow. Dean pouted now, though his eyes shone at the banter.

"Hey, what's wrong with those?" He joked, reaching in to scratch under Dust's chin, which showed off his small but sharp beak, "I mean look at him, how deadly is he, right?" Sam laughed, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

"We're calling our barred Balata," Lucifer smiled, "it means justice in enochian, though you guys probably knew that, huh?" Everyone nodded, though Castiel complimented them on their choice in name.

"What are you calling your cat, Sam?" Michael asked, causing him to smile.

"I think that I've settled on Salem," Everyone nodded along, and then soon enough they were back standing in front of the ancient shop, each giddy with excitement at the prospect of receiving their new wands.

"Here you are, ten galleons each." He doled out everyone their respective wands, and Sam felt his grace connect with his own instantly, recognizing his feather within.

His was gorgeous, it was long and thin, a sleek dark, reddened wood, the wand was covered in neat, silver Celtic knots. It was round and smooth in his hand, causing a light tingle to spread through his arm whenever he held it, connection to both his grace and his newfound magic.

Michael's had a shorter, black wand, it was slightly jagged, and the very tip was riddled with sleek thorns. It looked eerie, dangerous, and Sam found it actually worked quite well with him, it looked like his wand, it really did.

Lucifer's wand was dark and slender, it was long, with varying sizes along the handle so it fit well into the grooves of his palm, and the rest of the wood was filled with gentle, deliberate bumps to create a sharper look to it that matched Lucifer perfectly.

Gabriel's was the longest of them, a neat, light coloured wand with series of carved and detailed knots in the handle, and cut short at the end so that it ended abruptly. Sam found that it suited him, the light colour of the wood complimented his overall appearance well.

Castiel had a simplistic wand of them, a neat, light coloured wand with dips so you could tell where the handle ended and began. It was the shortest along with Michael's, they were both about the same size at nine inches. Sam thought it complimented his dark hair and eyes.

Finally, Dean had the most simple wand of the lot of them, it was thin and tapered to a sharp point that almost looked dangerous, and there was an almost… pommel, on the end, which was just a circle so he could keep his grip better. Sam thought it looked kind of deadly, which suited his older brother very well.

They paid for their wands, and each got themselves a quick wand holster, which was strapped instantly to their arms, their wands tucked inside. It had grown dark, and it was nearly night by the time they made their way out of Diagon, and into a muggle alleyway, where they Portkeyed home. They thanked and said goodbye to the Professor, who was sure to give them the details needed on September first, and then vanished with a smile and a quick codeword.

Sam was exhausted, it had been far too long of a day, and he just managed to make it to his nest, where he collapsed with a purring Salem, and dreamt of a wonderful new world.

* * *

**Hello, me again. I'm sorry I got rid of Ace, but you aren't meant to have dogs at Hogwarts, and it was too odd that Professor McGonagall would have even allowed him to purchase a dog in the first place, and so Salem was added. I couldn't just give him the same name, I couldn't really replace him completely like that, so who better to write than a character based off of my own cat, who is beginning to get up there in years? Okay, anyways, I changed most of the pets, I know, but I was doing some research and things, and I really didn't want things to stay exactly the same. I changed the wood in Sam's wand, if any of you noticed, it's Alder instead of Elm, I just thought that it suited him a bit better (though they both do if you go and read the article on Pottermore). Oh! I also added why they looked like adults when they were meant to be children, someone pointed it out to me in the last version. I actually had mentioned it in the text (chapter 4), but it must have been too brief, so I made sure to cover it rather than skim over it. Anyways, thanks for reading, favouriting, following and/or reviewing! See you later!**


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